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MEMOIR 



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J|| REV. T. BALDWIN, f 




BRINLEY. 



I LIBRARY OF CONGRESs/ 

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\ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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MEMOIR 

OF 

REV. THOMAS BALDWIN, D. D. 

liATE PASTOR OP THE 

SECOND BAPTIST CHURCH IN BOSTON, 

WHO DIED 

AT WATERVILE, MAINE, AUG. 25, 1825. 



BY REV. DANIEL CHESSMAN, A. M. 



WITH AN APPENDIX, 
CONTAINING LETTERS AND HYMNS. 




BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY ELDER JOHN PEAK. 

And Sold by bim, No. 4, Snow-bill I'luce. 



Press of J. Howe, 39 Merchants Row. 

1S4L 



^ 



MEMOIR.* 



m 



Rarely has it been our duty to record the 
personal history of a man so extensively known, 
so universally respected, or so tenderly beloved. 
Rarely does it fall to the lot of an individual to 
fill so many and so important stations in the re- 
ligious world, and to fill them all so meekly and 
yet so ably. A name so unsullied has not often 
been w^ritten on the tomb, nor has a patriarch 
often been gathered to his fathers amid so wide 
spread a burst of filial lamentation. Under such 
circumstances, we are well aware how difficult 
is the task which our situation at present im- 
poses upon us. Well might we shrink from it 
were it not our duty. We know how extensive 
was the circle of friends to whom the subject 
of our Memoir was known, how deep and how 
affectionate was the interest which he never 
failed to awaken in those who approached him, 

*The substance of this Memoir was originally published 
in the American Baptist Magazine, for January andFebuary, 
1826. The additions made are from the diary of Dr. 
Baldwin. 



and that every one will expect us to give the 
picture, the living, breathing loveliness of the 
original ; and we well know that to do this will 
be impossible. There was in Dr. Baldwin's 
countenance a peculiar charm of expression, 
which no painter ever succeeded in transferring 
to the canvas. And there was in his mind a 
striking combination of varied excellence, which 
every one has felt, but which we despair of 
being able to recal to definite or even to vivid 
recollection. We shall only therefore humbly 
attempt to lay before our readers what we have 
been able to collect of his history, and what we 
have observed of his character, sincerely re- 
gretting thai the task had not fallen into abler 
hands. 

The Rev. Thomas Baldwin was born in 
Bozrah, Connecticut, Dec. 23, 1753, and was 
the only son of Thomas and Mary Baldwin, 
both natives of the same place. Of the early 
history of his family, but little is known. It 
may, however, be observed, that his father was 
attached to the military service, and rose to 
distinction in the then Colonial army. He died 
while his son was a youth. 

The fimily of his mother was remarkable for 
talent. She was a woman of eminent piety ; 
and it is to her early instructions that the church 



of Christ is indebted for much of the usefulness 
of that son, whom from a child she brought up 
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. 

It cannot be expected that much should be 
recollected of the early history of a man, who 
has outlived so many of the companions of 
his childhood. So far as any thing, however, 
can be known, the traits of character for which 
he was in manhood remarkable w^ere very early 
developed. From very infancy, his temper was 
noticed for its unruffled serenity. His mother 
used to observe, that never did she but in one 
single instance know him to betray any signs of 
impatience ; and when on this occasion she 
expressed her surprise, he instantly replied, 
'^Mother, I am not angry." 

Another trait for which his childhood was 
distinguished was love of justice. Even in his 
boyish sports, he was always the enemy of op- 
pression, controlling the strong and supporting 
the weak. And yet this sway was exercised so 
mildly, that among the playmates of his infancy 
he obtained the blessing of a peace maker. 

He very early discovered a taste for reading. 
Not only did he devote every leisure moment 
to the improvement of his mind, but also con- 
secrated to this object the hours of labour. 
Whenever his employments were of such a 
1* 



nature that one of his hands was disengaged, 
it was occupied with a book. By these habits 
of incessant application, he very early acquired 
a stock of valuable though miscellaneous infor- 
mation, which, combined with strong powers 
of original thinking, seemed in youth to mark 
him out for unusual eminence. 

At this time the advantages of education 
were much less extensively enjoyed in New 
England then at present. Schools were more 
rare, and the mode of instruction palpably de- 
fective. As a proof of this, it need only be 
remarked, that when Dr. Baldwin removed to 
Canaan, N. H. where he afterwards resided* 
he was generally selected on the Sabbath to 
read a sermon to the people who assembled for 
public worship, because he was the only young 
man in the town who was sufficiently educated 
to perform this service acceptably. The men- 
tion of this fact is sufficient to show how strong 
must have been his early bias towards intellec- 
tual improvement. 

It will tend to show how soon the most strik- 
ing traits of his character were exhibited, if 
we add, that those who knew Dr. Baldwin in 
youth have remarked, that he was then pecu- 
liarly noticed for the sprightliness of his wit. 
Though always innocent and always unoffend- 



ing, it was frequently pungent and always in 
point. Those who were in the habit of familiar 
intercourse with him, will well remember that 
rich vein of most playful good humour, which 
was at times discoverable until his latest day. 

When Dr. Baldwin was about 16 years of 
age, his mother, who was now a second time 
married to a very worthy and pious man by the 
name of Eames, removed to Canaan, New 
Hampshire. He removed with the family ; and 
this became for several years the place of his 
residence. 

At the age of 22, on the 22d of September, 
1775, he was married to Miss Ruth Huntington, 
of Norwich, Conn, with whom he was happily 
united until her death, Feb. 11, 1812. They 
had six children. One only now survives to 
mourn the loss of a tender and affectionate 
father. Two sons died in infancy, and an 
amiable daughter at the age of sixteen. A son 
at the age of twenty-one, and his youngest 
daughter at the age of twenty-eight. 

The town of Canaan was rapidly peopled by 
emigrants from Connecticut and Massachusetts- 
Before he was 30, Dr. Baldwin was elected to 
represent it in the General Court. Of his re- 
putation as a legislator we have no certain in- 
formation. It is evident, however,] that his 



success was such as to gratify his constituents; 
for they repeatedly re-elected him. If we 
mistake not, they did not cease to choose him, 
until, feeling the importance of his ministerial 
labors, he had decidedly expressed his deter- 
mination to serve as a legislator no longer. 

We are happy to have arrived at a period in 
this Memoir, at which we are enabled to refer to 
a manuscript written by Dr. Baldwin himself, 
during the few last years of his life. It com- 
mences with the relation of the events connected 
with his religious experience, and abruptly ter- 
minates with the time of his arrival in Boston. 
As it is numbered ^* Memoir No. 2," it is 
probable that either the former part was written 
and has been irrecoverably lost, or else that the 
author commenced with that part which most 
deeply interested him, with the intention of 
completing the beginnin^r at some other period. 
This narrative comprises about ten years of his 
life ; and as it has been very kindly placed in 
our hands by his afflicted widow, we shall make 
no apology for introducing it at once to our 
readers. We do this with the greater pleasure, 
not only because, in a very simple dress, it pre- 
sents some of the most interesting events in the 
religious history of its much beloved author, 
but also because it gives us an unusually vivid 



idea of the manners and customs of that part 
of New England at the time of our re^Tolution- 
ary contest. The autograph menioir commences 
as follows : — 

*'In the year 1780, I have reason to hope I 
was brought to the saving knowledge of the 
truth. The methods by which this change 
was effected I will endeavour to state with as 
much particularity as may be necessary in this 
place. 

" Before I proceed, I would, however, just 
remark, that I have no reason to believe that I 
had ever been the subject of such religious 
impressions as many others have, during my 
early years. I had indeed a general conviction 
of the reality of revealed religion, and that I 
had no lot nor part in it. When, however, my 
conscience accused me of living without God 
and without hope in the world, I was usually 
able to pacify it by promises of future amend- 
ment, or by recurring to the plea of inability. 
Often, after I had spent an evening until a late 
hour in mirth and dancing, when I came to lay 
my head upon my pillow, the thought of sudden 
death would intrude into my mind. Such 
questions as these would often force themselves 
upon me: "What if you should die before 
morning'?" '* What if the judgment day should 



Ir 



10 

come?" The answer waSj "I am unprepared 
for eitbe'r." These thoughts at times caused 
me to weep freely. But perhaps when the 
morning returned, all was forgotten. Although 
I resolved, at some future time, to be religious, 
(for I supposed I could be religious at any time) 
yet I never fixed that time as near at hand. 
There always appeared some peculiar obstacles 
in the way, and some sinful propensities to be 
indulged, before I could think of being religious. 
Thus I lived from year to year, in a state of 
awful security and forgetfulness of God. 

"My conscience frequently accused me of 
the sinfulness of my heart and conduct; but 
such were the charms of pleasure, that I could 
not persuade myself to give them up. Yet , 
while in this vain pursuit after the pleasures of 
the world, I was often forced to serious reflection. 
At times, I appeared to myself to be awfully 
hardened, and have thought, when walking or 
riding alone on a dark evening, that I really 
wished a light from heaven to shine around me 
as it did around Saul, when on his way to 
Damascus. At other times, I had such a sense 
of my miserable condition, that I thought I 
should be willing to suffer a severe fit of sick- 
ness, if it might be the means of bringing me 
to God. These feelings were, however, only 



11 

transient, and the moment they subsided, the 
same rage for vanity would return. 

**One reason which induced me to be willing 
to suffer sickness or some other calamity from 
the hand of God, was a foolish dread of what 
the world would say of me. *' How," said I to 
myself, ** should I become religious, could I 
hold up my head before any of my young com- 
panions, who might inquire what was the occa- 
sion of my being so dull/' I thought I could 
never have fortitude enough to tell them I was 
concerned about my precious soul. What a 
pitiful excuse for living in sin !" 

Here we trust we shall be excused for inter- 
rupting for a moment the course of this inter- 
esting narrative, to remark how simple and 
affecting a discovery is here made of the human 
heart, and its total alienation from God. We 
see how a man can be perfectly convinced of 
the reality of religion, of his obligations to 
God, and of the consequences of disobedience, 
and yet live in wilful neglect of every duty ; 
pursuing the course which he knows the Eternal 
God has forbidden, because if he did otherwise 
men might laugh at him. Well did the Saviour 
say of such men, '* I know you that ye have 
not the love of God in you ;" and aptly did he 
allude to one great cause of their disobedience, 



12 

in that question, ** How can ye believe, who 
receive honor one of another?" And we would 
ask. Do not the preceding paragraphs delineate 
very exactly the moral condition of many of 
our readers, and of a very large portion of those 
who, with very respectful attention, hear the 
gospel every Sabbath day ? But to resume the 
narative : — 

**Inthe month of November, 1777, God in 
his holy providence was pleased to take from 
me my first-born by death ; a dear little son 
between six and seven months old. This pain- 
ful event was rendered more distressing, both 
to me and my dear companion, by the circum- 
stance of my being absent at the time. I had 
left my family eight or ten days before, all in 
usual health; and when having accomplished 
my business, and returning home, was met by 
a friend, who in formed me that my child was 
dead and buried. 

** As oppressed with grief I rode silently 
homeward, the thought struck me, — *This is 
the voice of God to call me to repentance. 
What excuse can I now have ? Under the ap- 
pearance of mourning for my child, I may 
become religious, and no one will know it.' 
Accordingly I set myself about it, and for the 
first time, attempted to pray in my family. I felt 



13 

very solemn, and thought I was very sincere. I 
concluded I should never yield my heart to van- 
ity as I had done before. My devotion was con- 
tinued morning and evening; and I believe for 
the space of two or three weeks, I was never 
seen to smile. I remember that once I felt 
much remorse, after having, in an unguarded 
moment, been surprised into laughter. At the 
same time indulging serious reflections, I was 
not unfrequently much affected. But, alas ! it 
was only the sorrow of the world. The im- 
pression made upon my mind by the death of a 
darling babe, began gradually to wear away. 
In a little time my seriousness was gone, and I 
returned to my wonted cheerfulness and gaiety. 
"All that now remained of my seriousness 
that had the appearance of religion was, a mere 
lifeless formality in prayer. I look back with 
shame and remorse to this period of my life, 
when, notwithstanding my constant but un- 
meaning prayers, I lived in the eager persuit of 
the vanities of the world, only perhaps with a 
little more concealment than I had formerly 
done. I had early imbibed a thirst for honor. 
I knew this could not be gratified without pre- 
serving a fair reputation. But such was my 
love of gay company, mirth and dancing, that 
I went as far as my respect for character would 
2 



14 



1 



at all permit. I tremble to think of the tempta- 
tions and snares which then beset my path. 
But for thfe restraining power of a merciful God, 
I had certainly been ruined. 

" In the summer of 1780, my mind became 
at times, very uneasy. I had serious thoughts 
about religion, yet did not feel determined to set 
about it in earnest. 1 had a decided conviction 
that there must be a change of heart, or all the 
outward forms of religion would be unavailing. 
I would often ask myself, what is meant by being 
born again ? I remember once having attempt- 
ed to take refuge in this. It is said, ** Whoso- 
ever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, is born 
of God." I believe that Jesus is the Christ ; 
am I not therefore born of God ? But I per- 
ceived that my belief had no effect either upon 
my heart or life. I was also fully aware that 
Christians possessed something of which I wa& 
destitute. They told of joys and sorrows which 
I had never felt. 

In the month of September, God, in his holy 
providence, sent two Baptist preachers into the 
town. They preached several lectures, and 
spent one Lord's day in the neighborhood. — 
Several persons appeared greatly alarmed by 
their preaching. I thought they were good men, 
but too illiterate to edify me. I, however, felt 



15 

very solemn under their preaching, and per- 
ceived that others felt yet more than myself. 
Some professors of religion were very much 
aroused, and several young persons were very 
deeply impressed." 

Dr. Baldwin proceeds to mention the increas- 
ed solemnity which rested upon his mind while 
attending several religious meetings, which were 
held about this time in the neighborhood. The 
narrative then continues : '* In the evening, 
there was to be a conference at a private house. 
I attended. The meeting was opened by 
prayer ; after which, two persons came forward 
and told what God had done for their souls. 
One of them, a sensible and well informed man, 
gave a very striking account of his conversion 
to God. Almost the whole assembly was in 
tears. I felt very tenderly, but in a great 
measure refrained from weeping. Soon, how- 
ever, after this, a moving scene commenced. 
A very pious man came, and falling down on 
his knees before me, addressed me, as follows : 
^* Neighbor Baldwin, can you forgive me, can 
you forgive me, that I have lived so little like a 
Christian, and that I have set no better ex- 
ample before you !" I trembled like Felix, and 
replied, ^' I have nothing against you more than 
I have against my own soul." He followed 



16 

these remarks with the most solemn entreaties, 
and feeling exhortations, to turn unto God and 
live. Although in my proud heart, I had re- 
solved never to shed a tear in public, all my 
resolutions were utterly unavailing. In spite of 
every effort, I trembled and wept, and changed 
my seat to avoid observation. My extrcjme 
agitation, however, soon discovered itself Sev- 
eral persons spoke to me ; many rejoiced, and 
many were affected at seeing that my mind was 
impressed. When asked to state my feelings, 
I could only say, with Agur, '^ I am more brut- 
ish than any man, and have not the understand- 
ing of a man." I thought I earnestly desired 
conversion ; but how to attain it, how to obtain 
an interest in Christ, T did not know. I at first 
apprehended I should, in some way, have a dis- 
covery of Christ on the cross, and that this 
would give me comfort. Again, 1 thought I was 
now so distressed, that God would soon give me 
relief I cried ; but, alas ! all seemed in vain. 

** Although I had continued my cold, phari- 
saical prayers from the time before mentioned, 
yet, till this night I had never conversed with 
my family on the subject of personal religion. 
But now I entered with seriousness into the 
subject; and after disclosing my feelings, ex- 
pressed my resolution that, let others do what 



17 

they would, I was determined to seek the Lord. 
I found much tenderness in attempting to pray 
before retiring to rest. I had some concern lest 
these impressions should leave me, and my mind 
become yet more hardened than before. I 
awoke before the day dawned, and found my 
mind still deeply impressed. I cannot say as 
many have, that I strove to shake off my con- 
victions ; on the contrary, my great anxiety was 
to increase them ; for this was the way in which 
I was looking for deliverance. My distress con- 
tinuing day and night, I began to hope that God 
had begun the work, and that he would carry it 
on. At times, I experienced great tenderness, 
and often, both in public and private, wept 
bitterly. 

*' I was satisfied that my prayers were ex- 
ceedingly defective. They appeared so sinful, 
that T thought God would not regard them. But 
as Christians appeared to be in earnest for me, 
at times I was encouraged to believe that God 
would hear them in my behalf Although I was 
not called by name, yet I thought I knew when 
they presented my case before the Lord.* At 

* In this supposition; it is probable^ that the author was 
not mistaken. An aged minister, by whom Dr. Baldwin 
was baptized; once mentioned, that several Christians in 
the neighborhood, observing his promising talents and amia- 

2* 



18 

one of these seasons of prayer, it seemed to me 
that my case was wholly neglected. I was 
ready to say with David, *' Refuge faileth me, 
and no man careth for my soul." I concluded 
that if the saints were not permitted to pray for 
me, my case was desperate. Despondency seiz- 
ed me, and I began to fear that all was over 
with my soul. Yet at times I could not but 
hope, that God would, at some time or other, 
bring me out of this distress, and that I should 
yet praise him. 

"My distress did notarise so much from the 
fear of punishment, as.ffrom a sense of having 
abused divine goodness and mercy. All my 
hopes from any thing in myself, seemed to van- 
ish. I had been accustomed to think that I was 
not so great a sinner as some others, because I 
had been addicted to no degrading vice. But I 
now saw that my morality, fair as it had appear- 
ed, was most wretchedly defective ; and that my 
prayers had been no better than solemn mocke- 
ry. I greatly feared that my repentance was 
not genuine ; that it would ultimately prove no 

ble disposition, had agreed together to make his conversion 
a special subject of prayer. This agreement was formed 
while he was yet thoughtless, and we may "well suppose 
that their desires were strengthened, when they saw so 
pleasing a hope of their fulfilment. 



19 

more than the workings of a natural heart, 
writhing under the lashings of conscience. — - 
Often would I say, what shall I do to be saved ? 
How can I come to Christ? O, that some man 
would guide me ! Thus I went mourning, from 
day to day, as without the light of the sun. 
The world had lost its charms. The pleasures 
that had heretofore appeared so facinating, now 
seemed so extremely insipid, that I wondered I 
could ever have thought so highly of them. 
They not only appeared empty and trifling, but 
to a great degree disgusting. 

** After spending an anxious and almost sleep- 
less night, I arose just after the dawning of the 
day, and resolved once more to pray. I said 
v/itli Jonah, ** I will look again towards his holy 
temple." I knelt down, and in a few broken 
sentences, tried to send my cries to the mercy 
seat. I felt convinced that I had done nothing 
to merit the divine favor, nor could I do any 
thing though I were eternally to perish. This 
I thought I confessed to the Lord ; and as my 
last refuge, endeavored to cast myself upon the 
mercy of God. During this day, I felt less 
anxiety than I had for many days before. — 
Sometimes I hoped I had given myself to God, 
and sometimes I feared that my convictions were 
wearing off, and that I should return again unto 
folly. 



20 

" Just in the twilight of the same day, I had 
occasion to walk to a neighbor's house, about a 
quarter of a mile distant. As I walked, a new 
train of thought occupied my mind. How hap- 
py, thought I, are the angels ! They are happy, 
because they are holy, and have never sinned. 
How unhappy I am on account of sin ! My 
thoughts now run back to Adam in the garden. 
I thought I would have given the world, had it 
been at my command, if he had never sinned ; 
then I should not have been a sinner. But now, 
I felt myself a dreadful sinner, and could see no 
way by which I could be made holy. At the 
same time I was convinced, that unless I were 
made holy, I could never be made happy. It 
appeared that I had a great something to do ; 
what it was, or how to do it, I knew not. Im- 
mediately, as I walked, this passage of Scrip- 
ture came powerfully into my mind, ** Behold 
the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of 
the world." A gleam of hope seemed to come 
from these words. But I thought they were 
only words which I had read, and were now 
suggested by my imagination. They seemed 
to be repeated the second time, ** Behold the 
Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of 
the world." The effect was overwhelming. In 
an instant, the great plan of mercy, through the 



21 

atonement of Christ, was astonishingly opened 
to my view. He appeared to be just such a 
'Saviour as I needed I saw that, by his atone- 
ment, he had (so far as an atonement could do it,) 
** taken away the sin of the world." What, said 
I to myself, is it only to believe in Jesus Christ 
in order to be saved ? It appeared almost to« 
free, and too glorious. It seemed impossible 
that it should be true. But the more I reflect- 
ed, the more clear it appeared that this was the 
gospel method of salvation. I could not help 
taking hold of it, and thought I saw in it a glo- 
rious consistency with the attributes of God. 

** My mind now became calm, but not trans- 
ported. It occurred to me, that this was not 
such a conversion as I had been looking for. I 
had expected my distress to be increased, until 
I should see myself hanging, as it were, over 
everlasting burnings, and that then I should 
have some discovery of the Saviour ; but in 
what way, I knew not. Those sweet words 
would still recur to my mind, '' Behold the 
Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the 
world." The gracious invitations of the gos- 
pel, such as Isaiah Iv. 1, ''Ho, every one that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that 
hdith no money ; come ye, buy, and eat ; yea, 
come, buy wine and milk without money and 



^ 



22 

without price," appeared exceedingly precious. 
The more I reflected, the more was I lost in 
wonder and astonishment, in contemplating the 
riches of grace. The Saviour now began to 
appear precious to me. Yet I was exceedingly 
afraid that I should be deceived. 

*' A short time afterwards, being asked at a 
conference meeting to relate my religious feel- 
ings, I complied ; and though honestly, yet with 
much fear and trembling, I proceeded to state 
what I had experienced. Christians rejoiced, 
and anxious sinners wept. I was called upon, 
in the course of the evening, to pray. I at- 
tempted, and was blessed with some degree of 
freedom. Seeing some persons who had been 
for some time anxious, I could not refrain from 
addressing them. They were asking, '* What 
shall we do to be saved?" I replied, '* Believe 
on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be sav- 
ed." I then thought I could tell them, so that 
they would believe. But after stating to them 
my views of that wonderful declaration, *' Behold 
the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of 
the world," I could not perceive that they were 
affected by it. It seemed to me that every one 
now could believe, and I wondered that I had 
never believed before. I seldom afterwards at- 
tended meeting without taking some part in the 



23 

public exercises, until I was solemnly set apart 
to the work of the ministry. 

*' It may be proper here to observe, that pre- 
vious to my religious concern, I had, with the 
advice of several friends, determined to enter 
upon the study of the law. Two gentlemen, 
one of whom had been State's Attorney, in 
Connecticut, the other a practitioner in law, 
kindly engaged me their assistance, and furnish- 
ed me with books. I had already read a num- 
ber, and was reading Blackstone's Commenta- 
ries, when my attention was arrested. I was 
obliged to lay them aside, but with the expecta- 
tion of resuming them, after my impressions had 
subsided. I made several attempts to resume 
them, but now found it utterly in vain. My 
attention was wholly engrossed with another 
subject, although I do not recollect that I 
thought of preaching. I have since, however, 
had reason to believe that the impression was 
very general upon the minds of the people, that 
I should at some time or other, become a minis- 
ter of the gospel. As there was no settled min- 
ister in the town at this time, I was constantly 
called upon to take some part in all the religious 
meetings. I however felt a great diffidence in 
speaking, unless when requested by some of the 
older brethren. 



24 

** Not long after I had obtained a hope of an 
interest in Christ, when meditating on the 
character of the Saviour, these words were im- 
pressed very forcibly on my mind, *' These are 
they which follow the Lamb, whithersoever he 
goeth." I was struck with the thought, and 
wished that I might be one of them, for they 
seemed to me to be peculiarly blessed. But the 
question immediately occurred, '^ Where has the 
Saviour gone as an example for his people to 
follow?" I was first led to view him coming 
from Galilee to Jordan, to be baptized of John, 
in Jordan. I at once said to myself, I cannot 
follow him in this, nor am 1 required to. I have 
been already devoted to God in infancy ; there- 
fore this part of Christ's example can have no 
claim upon my obedience. Still the words fol- 
lowed me : " These are they which follow the 
the Lamb whithersoever he goeth." I at length 
resolved prayerfully to search the New Testa- 
ment, with, I trust, a heart breathing the lan- 
guage of the apostle, '* Lord, what wilt thou 
have me to do ?" 

*' I had been educated in the principles, and 
what I now consider the prejudices of the Con- 
gregationalists. I had read little on the baptis- 
mal controversy, except '* Dickenson's Divine 
Right of Infant Baptism." This work had 



2S 

been re-pfinted, with a preface, by eight Con' 
gregational ministers, of the then town of Nor- 
wich, one of whom was my great uncle, under 
whose instructions I had been brought up. I 
thought very highly of the work, and had read 
it with much attention more than once, in order 
to furnish myself with arguments in favor of 
infant baptism. These arguments had satisfied 
my mind until now, when I read the Scriptures 
with different feelings. I wished to be candid, 
and to receive the truth wherever I might find 
it. But after all, when I perceived that the evi- 
dence appeared against my former sentiments, 
and in favor of the baptism of believing adults 
only, it required an amazing struggle to surren- 
•der the point. I concealed my conflicts from 
all my Baptist friends, but unbosomed myself 
freely to several Pedo-baptist ministers, hoping 
that they might be able to remove my difficul- 
ties. But all of them proved physicians of no 
value. I had fully resolved to follow the truth 
wheresoever I might find it. I well knew, more- 
over, that all my earthly connexions were decid- 
ed Pedo-baptists. I endeavored to count the 
cost, and though I should forfeit their friend- 
ship, felt determined to follow the dictates of 
my own conscience. 
3 



26 

" During my unsettled state of mind, a re- 
spectable Congregational minister visited and 
lodged at my house. In the course of the 
evening, he introduced the subject of his visit, 
v\^hich vi^as, he said, to invite me to offer myself 
a candidate for examination before the Associa- 
tion to which he belonged, with a view to my 
being licensed to preach the gospel in their fel- 
lowship. But being so far convinced of the 
correctness of the distinguishing sentiments of 
the Baptists, I thought it improper to take any 
step, until my mind should be decided. I thank- 
ed him for his friendly invitation ; but frankly 
told him the state of my mind. I requested 
him, if he thought I was in danger of embrac- 
ing an error, to endeavor to reclaim me. With 
this view, I requested him to tell me where to 
find a warrant for infant baptism. He immedi- 
ately referred to Genesis xvii. and went at large 
into the ordinary argument founded upon the 
Abrahamic covenant. After conversing till a 
late hour, I informed him that I had hoped he 
would have convinced me that infant baptism 
was right : but was sorry to say, that he had 
entirely failed. My conscience still preponde- 
rated towards the opinions of the Baptists. — 
'' Sir," said I, ^'in this case, what shall 1 do?" 
" Why," said he, '^ if we cannot agree to think 



27 

alike, we must agree to differ." We united in 
prayer, and retired to rest. 

" Previously to my baptism, I visited my 
friends at Norwich, Conn. I then took an op- 
portunity of conversing with my former venera- 
ble pastor. He received me very kindly ; and 
when at his request, I related my religious ex- 
ercises, was quite melted into tears. But, to- 
wards the close of the evening, ^e suspected, 
from some of my inquiries, that my mind was 
not established in the doctrines of Pedo-baptism, 
and remarked to me, in rather a stern tone of 
voice, ** Well, Thomas, if you renounce your 
infant baptism, and are re-baptized, I shall re- 
probate you, notwithstanding all that you have 
told me."* I was much shocked at the remark, 
and after a moment's silence, replied, '^ I hope. 
Sir, I shall be directed to do what is right." 
Thus we parted, perhaps with mutual dissat- 
isfaction. 

" He put into my hand at parting, '' Wall's 
Abridgment of his History of Infant Baptism." 



* It is pleasing to record^ that the good old man did not 
execute his threat. After Dr. Baldwin had become a Bap- 
tist minister, his aged relative treated him with great kind- 
ness, invited him to preach in his pulpit, and indeed, to the 
close of his life, manifested towards him the most parental 
attention. 



28 

But all the help I derived from this was, to be 
confirmed in what I had before feared was true. 
Dr. Wall unhesitatingly acknowledges that the 
primitive mode of baptism was immersion, and 
blames the Presbyterians for changing it into 
sprinkling. Neither during my inquiries, nor 
before them, had I ever seen a page written by 
the Baptists, except a small pamphlet written by 
S. Wilson, entitled, ** A Scripture Manual." 
This I had read many years before. I once told 
a Baptist minister that I wished to have some 
conversation with him respecting Baptism, as I 
had some doubts in my mind on that subject. 
He replied, *' Do you only read your Bible, and 
you will do well enough." I thought the advice 
correct, and determined to follow it. And 
whether now right or wrong, I can only say, that 
the Bible and my own conscience compelled me 
to be what I am. In the latter part of the sum- 
mer of 1781, I was baptized by the Rev. Elisha 
Ransom, then of Woodstock, Vt. This was a 
very trying, but on the whole a very joyful day 
to me. I had engaged Rev. Mr. Ransom to 
come to Canaan, preach a lecture, and adminis- 
ter the ordinance of baptism; public notice of 
which had been given. But when the day ar- 
rived, my mind was exceedingly dark ; I thought 
that I should not be able to satisfy any one, that I 



29 

had experienced a change of heart ; more espec- 
ially the administrator, as I* knew that he was 
very critical in the examination of candidates. 
But as I had opened my mouth to the Lord, I 
dared not go back. During most of the public 
exercise, my mind remained still dark; but the 
preacher, in addressing the audience, asked 
them this question : *' Have you not love enough 
to follow your blessed Lord into his watery 
grave ?" This expression touched my heart, 
and in a moment I was bathed in tears; and 
thought I could say, '' Lord, I will follow thee, 
whithersoever thou goest : through floods and 
flames, if thou callest me to go. As soon as 
the discourse was closed, I arose, and with much 
feeling addressed the people. The dark cloud 
which had hung over me, was now entirely dis- 
persed. I enjoyed great freedom in relating my 
experience of God's dealings with my soul. Two 
others at the same time, offered themselves for 
baptism, and were accepted. We all repaired 
to a pleasant river, to attend the solemn ordi- 
nance. The last assault of the adversary seem- 
ed to be aimed at my pride. It was suggested, 
that there was something extremely mean and 
degrading in this mode of baptism ; that all my 
associates would be present ; and how should I 
appear in submitting to this humiliating ordi- 
3* 



30 

nance. But I trust, that I was enabled to fix 
my mind on the example of Christ, on his con- 
descending love in attending to this sacred rite, 
and the fear of man was in a great degree over- 
come. There was a great concourse of people ; 
but I did not once recollect that any were 
present, whose feelings were different from my 
own, until the last candidate was led into the 
water. I was then led to ask myself, where is 
the cross which you had so much dreaded on 
account of the sneers, and reproachful remarks 
of the spectators ? I thought I could say, that 
it was wholly removed ; and like the Ethiopian 
€unuch, 1 went on my way rejoicing. 

" From my constantly speaking in public, I 
began to fear being suspected of aspiring to be- 
come a preacher. This impression I studiously 
labored to prevent. An ardent desire for the 
salvation of immortal souls, on the one hand, 
and on the other, a consciousness of my want 
of those acquirements which I considered nec- 
essary to qualify me for the work, kept me for 
some time in a state of perplexity. 

" It may not be improper here, to mention a 
remarkable season of prayer, which I once at 
this time enjoyed. [If these lines should ever 
meet the eye of any other person, I hope that 
what I am to relate, will not be imputed to 



31 

vanity or egotism. *' Behold, before God, I lie 
not."] While the subject of preaching was yet 
undetermined in my mind, after sermon one 
Lord's-day, as was then customary, a brother 
present, who was far gone in consumption, ad- 
dressed the people in a very affecting exhorta- 
tion ; after which, I was requested to pray. I 
engaged : but it is impossible for me to describe 
the scene which opened to my view. Soon after 
I began to sneak, my soul appeared drawn out 
in an uncommon degree towards God, and the 
ecstasy of joy that I then felt, was absolutely 
indescribable and full of glory. For a few mo- 
ments, I apprehended I was about to quit the 
body. Words flowed as it were without an ef- 
fort of thought. My language and conceptions 
appeared uncommonly elevated. When I had 
<5losed and opened my eyes, I perceived the 
assembly almost all in tears. One man cried 
out in anguish of soul, *' I am undone!''^ Some 
others, who had remained in a hardened, stupid 
state until now, were trembling and weeping. 
These impressions with some, I have reason to 
hope, terminated in saving conversion to God. 

** This gracious manifestation of divine mer- 
cy and goodness to me, was accompanied with 
a peculiar peace and calmness of mind. It was 
indeed that peace of God which passeth all un- 



32 

derstanding. It was a season never to be for- 
gotten, while memory holds a place in my breast. 
It had, moreover, a considerable effect in recon- 
ciling me to devote myself to the work of the 
ministry. In the days of my vanity, I had never 
looked forward to any appointment with such 
intense desire as I now waited the return of the 
holy Sabbath, that 1 might meet with the chil- 
dren of God, and tell my fellow sinners the 
blessedness there is in believing. 

** The winter succeeding, we were favored 
with a refreshing season. Several were, as we 
hoped, brought home to God ; among them one, 
who has since become a minister of our denomi- 
nation. The church continued united in love, 
and additions were made from time to time of 
such as we trust shall be saved. 

** Although I had generally conducted the re- 
ligious exercises in most of our public meetings, 
yet it was not until August of 1782, that I at- 
tempted to take a text and preach doctrinally 
and methodically. The news soon circulated 
widely, that I had began to preach ; and the 
next Sabbath many collected from most of the 
neighboring towns. Our assemblies were full 
and attentive, and the prospect highly encour- 
aging ; and thus in general it continued. 



33 

^*In the spring of 1783, the church invited 
me to receive ordination. I consented to be 
ordained, but wot as the pastor of that particular 
<ihurch. It was, however, understood that I 
should perform the duties of a pastor so long as 
I should think it proper to stay with them. A 
meeting was then called, and the subject laid 
before the town. They unanimously voted to 
concur with the church, and presented a call on 
their part. Arrangements were accordingly 
made, and a council convened in Canaan, on 
the llth of June, 1783, at which time I was 
publicly ordained to the work of an evangelist. 
Rev. Samuel Shephard, of Brentwood, N. H. 
preached on the occasion from 2 Cor. iv. 7, 
** But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, 
that the excellency of the power may be of God, 
and not of us." Rev. Elisha Ransom, of Wood- 
stock, Vt. gave the charge, and Rev. Samuel 
Ambrose, of Sutton, N. H. gave the right hand 
of fellowship. Some other ministering breth- 
ren also assisted on the occasion. 

** The second Lord's day after I was ordained, 
I was called to baptize a female friend. When we 
came up out of the water, Mrs. S. M. of Enfield, 
being present, said, * See, here is water, what 
doth hinder me, that I may not be baptized V 
I replied, * If thou believest with all thine hearty 




34 

thou mayest.' She immediately answered, * I 
believe that Jesus is the Christ, the son of God.' 
The members of the church being chiefly 
present, collected together, and she gave a 
satisfactory account of a work of grace upon 
her heart. And we went down both into the 
water, and I baptized her. As we ascended the 
bank of the river, a young man observed, that 
he could not go away without offering himself 
as a candidate for baptism. The church con- 
sented to hear the reason of his hope. His 
relation proving satisfactory, he also was baptiz- 
ed ; and as we were about to leave the water, 
another female offered herself, but her relation 
not being satisfactory, and she being a stranger, 
her baptism was deferred for a further opportu- 
nity. 

** The church enjoyed as great a degree of 
harmony as commonly falls to the lot of churches 
in the age in which we live. Additions were 
from time to time made, until our number 
amounted to seventy. A considerable portion 
of these were from the adjacent towns. 

*' [ continued my labors with this church 
seven years, during which time, though princi- 
pally at home on the Sabbath, I spent much of 
the intervening time in visiting and preaching 
in the destitute parts of the surrounding country. 



35 

There were few towns within the space of fifty 
miles round, in which I did not occasionally 
preach. 

** In this warfare, I went chiefly at my own 
charges. . Some few churches, however, which 
I visited by appointment of the association, 
made me some compensation, and some individ- 
uals made me small presents ; but I do not re- 
collect that during the whole of this period, in 
all my journeyings, I ever received a public 
contribution. I usually met with a kind recep- 
tion from Christians of all denominations ; and 
besides receiving their decided approbation, 
often, quite often, received the following bene- 
diction, with a hearty pressure of the hand at 
parting, — '' Lord bless you, brother ; such men 
as you will never want." 

*' My mode of travelling was on horseback. 
In pursuing my appointments, I had often to 
climb the ragged mountains and descend the 
deep ravine. These exchanges, from rocky 
steeps to dismal swamps, were far from unfre- 
quent at that early period of the settlement of 
this part of our country. The roads are since 
so improved, that it would be difficult to per- 
suade the traveller now-a-days, that they had 
ever been as bad as the early settlers represent. 




36 

** The people were not however, so much 
wanting in kindness, as in the means of assist- 
ing a travelling minister. As for silver and gold, 
the greater part of them had none. The cause 
for this scarcity of money arose from the partic- 
ular circumstances of the times. At the close 
of the revolutionary war, the continental curren- 
cy, which had before depreciated to almost noth- 
ing, ceased. The little silver that remained in 
the coffers of the rich, was with much reluctance 
permitted to be drawn from its Jong sequestered 
concealment. It hence often happened, that the 
travelling preach(;r must either beg or go hun- 
gry, if he happened to travel where he was not 
known. This, however, did not very frequently 
fall to my lot. I am, however, well aware, that 
mankind in general are much more likely to re- 
member a single circumstance of affliction, 
though the suffering be ever so short, than many 
mercies of long continuance. 

'^ Some time in March, 1790, I was called to 
visit a remote part of New Hampshire, to assist 
in constituting a church, and settling a minister. 
The journey was about one hundred miles. I 
left home with only a few shillings, but unfor- 
tunately before night, the whole was lost. How- 
ever, as I had friends on the way to a consid- 



37 

erable distance, and as I had an appointment to 
spend a Sabbath at Haverhill, Coos, forty miles 
on my way, I concluded to proceed. I preach- 
ed twice on the Sabbath, to a large and respect- 
able audience. In my present circumstances, I 
expected some remuneration for my services ; 
but as I was decently dressed, they probably 
supposed that I needed nothing. 1 received the 
hearty thanks and good wishes of a number ; 
and with them, I pursued my journey. After 
travelling about fifteen miles, I came to the 
house of a ministering brother, who was the last 
acquaintance which I had on the way, and who 
was to accompany me the remainder of the 
journey. I informed him of my situation, and 
proposed to turn back ; to this he would not 
consent ; he said that himself and several other 
friends that were going, were all in the same sit- 
uation, being destitute of money ; but the com- 
pany would be provided with stores sufficient, 
and that there were friends all the way, where 
we might call and refresh ourselves. The snow 
was more than three feet deep, and the travel- 
ling was consequently very difficult and tedious. 
Our way was chiefly through a wilderness, with 
a few log cottages to relieve the solitude of the 
gloomy forest. On our arrival at a small settle- 
ment on Connecticut river, a few miles below 
4 



38 

the Upper Coos, the company dispersed among 
different families for lodgings. Two of us cross- 
ed the river, and spent the night on the opposite 
side, in Vermonl. We were received with much 
hospitality ; and the kindness of our host ren- 
dered his poor accommodations quite pleasant. 
The house was open, and the night cold, which 
obliged me to wrap myself up in my cloak, 
though seated before a large fire, to keep me 
from suffering with the cold. Our lodging was 
comfortable, though it was probably at the ex- 
pense of the accommodation of the family. — 
The next morning we set out for Lancaster, 
Upper Coos, where I had an appointment to 
preach at ten o'clock. From this place we jour- 
neyed up Israel's river, to a place called Dart- 
mouth, near the foot of one of the White Moun- 
tains. Here I preached, and baptized five men. 
The day was extremely cold ; and my clothes 
were frozen almost as soon as I was out of the 
water. The next day a church was constituted, 
composed only of baptized believers. 

*' The candidate for ordination was examined, 
but the council not being entirely satisfied, did 
not proceed to ordain him. But as the people 
had assembled, it was thought proper that I 
should preach on the occasion ; especially as I 
was about to leave the place. This was an in- 



39 

teresting season, and many appeared to be deep- 
ly impressed. At the close of the meeting, I 
was much fatigued ; but, as I was refreshing 
myself at the table, the friends came around me 
to bid me farewell. Among them, I observed a 
young person, who stood silently weeping at my 
side. I asked her what she wanted ; she repli- 
ed, with a depressed tone of voice, ' an interest 
in Christ.' I directed her to the Lamb of God, 
who taketh away the sin of the world. At this 
time my heart was too full to remain any longer 
at the table; I therefore arose, exhorted, and 
prayed with them, and took an affectionate leave 
of the people. Returninof to Lancaster, I 
preached again that evening. Two of my min- 
istering brethren tarried until the next week, 
and baptized several persons, some of whom had 
been awakened, and hopefully converted during 
our visit at that place. 

** The day following, I set out for LandafF, in 
company with J. C. Esq. ; the distance was 
about thirty miles. It so happened that neither 
of us had any money ; we consequently expect- 
ed to ride the whole distance without refresh- 
ment. But as we were setting out, a gentleman 
belonging to the village, proposed to bear us 
company. In the course of our ride, he said to 
me, ' Sir, I was brought up an Episcopalian, 



40 

and before the revolution was possessed of a 
considerable estate. But, unfortunately, both 
myself and my father's family adhered to the 
royal party ; consequently, my property was 
principally confiscated ; but I have a little left. 
My brother is a clergyman in the establishment ; 
but 1 freely confess that I am inclining to the 
sentiments of the Universalists. Sir, I cannot 
dispute, but I will cheerfully hear any remarks 
which you may think proper to offer.' I was 
much pleased with the candor with which he 
stated his own views, and his willingness to lis- 
ten to what might be advanced in favor of truth. 
** After riding a few miles, he observed, that 
it vi^as time to stop, and feed our horses; but 
knowing that my pecuniary resourses were low, 
I observed, that it was not necessary. But he 
insisted upon it, and said, * My father, sir, taught 
me, that whenever I happened to travel in com- 
pany with clergymen, never to allow them to 
pay any thing, and I am resolved that they never 
shall. Now, sir, whatever you may need, while 
in my company, is entirely at your service.' I 
was led to admire the goodness of God, in sending 
this kind stranger, who knew nothing of my situ- 
ation, to supply my wants while passing through 
this dreary wilderness. At night we were hos- 
pitably entertained at the house of Mr. C. 



41 

^' As I had an appointment to spend the next 
Sabbath at Danville, I found myself under the 
necessity of going ten miles farther down the 
river, to find a place where 1 could cross. Mr. C. 
proposed to accompany me as far as Peacham. 
When we had arrived at the place where we 
must part, my generous friend requested me to 
stop a few minutes, as he had occasion to step 
out, and wished to see me again. He soon re- 
turned, but appeared disappointed. He said 
he had been trying to get a guinea changed, 
having been informed of my little misfortune at 
the commencement of the journey, in order to 
give me something to help me on my way, but 
could not find money enough in the village to 
do it. * I am concerned,' said he, * lest you 
should suffer for the want of a little money.' I 
thanked him for his kindness, and told him I had 
no doubt that the Lord would provide. We 
parted, but not without some tender emotions. 

*' We then crossed the river, and proceeded 
up the west side, and about noon, parted with 
J. C. Esq., and pursued my journey alone. To- 
wards night it began to snow, and at dark I 
passed the last settlement in Peacham, and en- 
tered into a wilderness, without a single house 
on the way. The prospect was dreary and ap- 
palling. Being an entire stranger, the night 
4* 




42 

dark, and the road narrow, and intersected with 
limbs of trees, which obliged me to proceed 
slowly, with my hand before my face, in order 
to preserve my eyes ;* imagination suggested 
the danger of being arrested by some of those 
ferocious animals, which were known to inhabit 
these forests. But that God, who had preserved 
my life thus far, conducted me safely through all 
the dangers, and brought me to the house of my 
friends, who received me with no small kindness. 
The pleasure of meeting with them, made me 
forgetful of the dangers and trials of the way. 
I felt glad, and I hope, thankful, to that Being, 
from whom I had received all these favors. 

** The next day, being the Sabbath, I preach- 
ed three times, and twice afterward. The peo- 
ple were willing to make me some compensa- 
tion, but money was so exceedingly scarce, that 
they could raise only two shillings and three 
pence. With this, and the kindness of the 
friends on the way, I arrived home, after an 
absence of nearly four weeks." 

We have thus far followed the manuscript, 
with scarcely any alteration or abridgement. 
On the interesting topics to which it refers, the 
conversion of its author, his change of senti- 

*One of our company had his eye much injured by the 
point of a limb; while riding in the evening. 



43 

ments on the subject of baptism, and his call to 
the Christian ministry, we felt it our duty to 
allow him to speak for himself In doing this, 
we doubt not that we have performed a most 
grateful service to our readers. There is always 
a charm about a narrative, in which a man de- 
clares what he himself has seen and felt, which 
a narration written in the third person, can 
never acquire. And besides this, there is in 
the memoir above, so many traits of genuine 
Christian simplicity, so well executed a delinea- 
tion of the workings of the human heart in 
many of its most interesting attitudes, that it 
can scarcely be read, without lively and pecu- 
liar interest. Instead, therefore, of apologising 
for its length, we are persuaded that the wish 
will be general, that it were longer. 

The remainder of the narrative is not, how- 
ever, so well adapted for a memoir of this na- 
ture. It contains many incidents, interesting to 
the author and to his particular friends, but which 
might not so generally interest a miscellaneous 
public. We shall, therefore, leave the latter 
part of it, and only use it to supply us with such 
facts, and occasionally with such reflections, as 
may throw light upon the character of its author. 

It will be readily perceived, from what has 
been stated above, that the labors of Dr. Bald- 



44 

win in Canaan, must have been excessively se- 
vere. His reputation as a preacher was such, 
that his assistance was very frequently required 
at ordinations and councils in all the surround- 
ing country; and besides, the destitute condi- 
tion of many of the neighboring settlements, 
presented innumerable claims upon his Chris- 
tian sympathies. To all these calls, he unhesi- 
tatingly yielded himself up. In the narrative 
before alluded to, after relating the events of 
one of these journies,of an hundred miles from 
home, in the dead of winter, in which he had 
suffered much from cold, and something from 
hunger, and had been engaged in almost daily 
preaching, he concludes with the following re- 
flections. We insert them as a happy illustra- 
tion of the tone of his piety, and also of the 
honorable disinterestedness for which he was 
always distinguished. 

** During this tedious journey, I had suffered 
some little inconveniences, but enjoyed much 
comfort in my own soul. O, what an honor to 
be engaged in so good a cause, and to serve so 
glorious a Master ! Like him, for the joy that is 
set before me, may I ever be willing to endure 
the cross, and despise the shame, continually 
looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of 
my faith. 



45 

" It has often afforded me much consolation 
to reflect on what Christ said to his disciples, 
when one of them said, * Lo, we have left all 
and followed thee ;' and he said unto them, 
* Verily I say unto you, there is no man that 
hath left house, or parents, or brethren, or wife, 
or children, for the kingdom of God's sake, who 
shall not receive manifold more in this present 
time, and in the world to come, life everlasting.' 
I have never been able to discern any worldly 
motive which could have had any influence in 
making me a Baptist. I had literally to forsake 
(in point of sentiment,) all my earthly friends, 
all my expectations of honor, and I may also 
say, of wealth. When I was settled in the min- 
istry, it was without any stipulated salary what- 
ever ; and during the seven years which I spent 
with the church, where I was first settled, the 
whole of my salary would not average forty 
dollars a year ! Hence I may say with the 
apostle, ' These hands have ministered to my 
necessities, and those that were with me.' I 
would have gladly devoted myself wholly to the 
work, could I have seen any way in which my 
family could have been supported." 

It could not be expected that a minister of 
Dr. Baldwin's native talent, and we now add, 
celebrity, should be destined to labor for life. 



46 

amid the sparse population of an almost frontier 
settlement. The event proved, that by this 
severe discipline, Providence had been prepar- 
ing him for a field of more extensive usefulness. 
Towards the close of the winter of 1790, the 
Baptist Church in Sturbridge, Mass., under- 
standing that he was not confined by his ordina- 
tion to the people in Canaan, applied to him to 
visit them as a candidate for settlement. After 
some hesitation, the church in Canaan granted 
him liberty to visit Sturbridge, and promised, 
that if after due deliberation, he should con- 
sider it his duty to remove thither, they would 
furnish him with letters of dismission and re- 
commendation. 

About the same time, he also received a letter 
from the church in Hampton, Conn, containins: 
a similar request. And while on his journey to 
visit these places, early in the summer of the 
same year, he received an invitation to visit the 
Second Baptist Church in this city, which had 
just before been deprived by death of their ex- 
cellent pastor, the Rev. Mr. Gair. After visit- 
ing Sturbridge and Hampton, and receiving 
from both churches an unanimous invitation to 
become their pastor. Dr. Baldwin continued his 
journey to Boston ; and in compliance with the 
request of the church, preached his first ser- 



47 

mon to them, July 4, 1790, which was founded 
on Acts X. 29 ; *' I ask, therefore, for what in- 
tent ye have sent for me." On this occasion, 
he proceeds to say : 

** 1 did not enjoy very great freedom on this 
occasion ; being apprehensive that my audience 
were hearing merely as critics, in order to pass 
sentence on the preacher. Consequently my feel- 
ings were very different from what they were the 
preceding autumn, when I preached to the same 
society. I was then only a transient visiter, 
without the most distant thought of having a 
call to settle among them. After the meeting 
in the morning, one of the gentlemen of the 
society expressed his opinion to me, that this 
was not one of my best sermons. This led me 
to suppose, that he had not been very highly en- 
tertained. Indeed, religion seemed to be in a 
very low state. In the course of the week I 
preached a lecture ; and the ensuing Lord's day, 
I enjoyed some comfort and freedom. The 
committee requested me to continue to supply 
them, but I was under the necessity of return- 
ing to my family. Having engaged, however, 
to be with them on the first Lord's day in Au- 
gust, I then preached, and broke bread to them. 
On Monday, a young person, in great distress 
of mind, called at my lodgings. I conversed 



48 

with her, and found that she had been awakened 
the preceding day, by the power of divine truth. 
This afforded me a little encouragement. In 
the evening I attended meeting at the house of 
one of the members of the First Church. On 
Tuesday evening I preached again at a private 
house, and some of the hearers appeared to be 
considerably affected. It was remarked by one of 
the church, that he had not seen so favorable an 
appearance for several years. On Wednesday 
afternoon I was requested to meet with a number 
of young people, and to preach in the evening at 
the same place. About thirty met in the after- 
noon, all of whom appeared to be deeply affect- 
ed. I conversed with each individual ; they 
generally expressed a deep sense of their undone 
conditions. It was, literally, a place of weep- 
ing. The evening was solemn, and much feel- 
ing was manifested, while I preached to them 
from Matt. xxv. 10 ; * And while they went to 
buy, the bridegroom came ; and they that were 
ready, wont in with him to the marriage, and 
the door was shut.' On Monday evening, Au- 
gust 9, by particular request, I preached to the 
youth, at the Meeting-house. As the evening 
was very unpleasant, I concluded that few would 
attend. But to my surprise, when I came, it 
was with difficulty I could pass through the 



49 

crowd to the pulpit. The discourse was from 
Eccles. xii. I ; * Remember now thy Creator in 
the days of thy youth/ The excitement ap- 
peared daily to increase." 

In the beginning of August, some indications 
of a revival began to appear in the congrega- 
tion, until a very considerable number were 
heard with deep solemnity to inquire, *' What 
shall we do to be saved ?" The interest excited 
by his public labors, was very general ; and on 
the 22d of August, the Church and Society, by 
an unanimous vote, invited him to become their 
pastor. 

As we have before stated, Dr. Baldwin had 
previously received an invitation to become the 
pastor of the Baptist Church in Hampton, Conn, 
and also another from the Church in Sturbridge, 
Mass. With the appearance of this latter 
society, he was much pleased, and for some 
time thought that he should probably settle with 
them. Two considerations, however, had an 
influence in determining his mind to this city. 
One was, that he wished to reside where he 
could give himself wholly to the work. This 
was the great object for which he wished to re- 
move at all. For this, Boston appeared the 
most eligible situation. He perceived that here 
5 



50 

nothing was expected of a minister but what 
belonged to parochial concerns. This to him 
was a most desirable consideration. Connected 
with this, the special attention which appeared 
among the young people at this time, had great 
weight upon his mind. He sincerely believed 
that there was a greater prospect of usefulness 
here than in any country town whatsoever. Be- 
sides these considerations, it may be remarked, 
that a striking coincidence of events connected 
with his first coming to this city, seemed to 
point out the path of duty too plainly to be mis- 
taken. Under these circumstances, though 
with much trembling, he gave, on the 18th of 
September, 1790, an affirmative answer to the 
invitation. 

Dr. Baldwin was in consequence installed on 
the 11th of November following. The services 
were performed in the Meeting-house of Rev. 
Dr. Eliot, which was kindly offered for the pur- 
pose. The Rev. Dr. Stillman, then pastor of 
the First Baptist Church of this city, preached 
from 2 Cor. iv. 7, *^ For we have this treasure 
in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the 
power may be of God, and not of us." The 
Rev. Dr. Smith, of Haverhill, delivered the 
charge; the Rev. Thomas Green, of Cambridge, 
presented the right hand of fellowship ; and the 



51 

Rev. Joseph Grafton, of Newton, the venerable, 
and the only survivor,* offered the concluding 
prayer. The day was pleasant, the services 
highly interesting, and the assembly numerous 
and respectable.t 

We are now called to contemplate the subject 
of this memoir, under circumstances very dif- 
ferent from those with which his ministry com- 
menced. From the frontier settlements of New 
Hampshire, where almost the whole of his life 
had been spent, he was removed at once to the 
centre of a polite and literary metropolis, and 
was placed by the side of men whose praise had 
long been in all the churches, and whose lives 
had been devoted to academic learning. Prob- 
ably the pulpits of this city have never since 
been more ably filled. Drs. Lathrop, Eliot, 
Howard, Belknap and Thacher, were the minis- 
ters of the Congregational Churches, and Dr. 
Stillman, probably the most eloquent and most 
universally beloved clergyman that Boston has 
ever seen, was his immediate fellow laborer. 
His early advantages for education were, as we 
have seen, but scanty. Constant labor had left 

'^Deceased December 16, 1836, aged 79 years. 
fDr. Baldwin's Discourse, preached on the first Sabbath 
in January, 1824 j with an Appendix, containing an Histori- 
cal Sketch of the Church and Society, 



52 

him but little opportunity to improve them. He 
was now thirty-eight years of age ; a time of 
life beyond which men do not generally make 
much advancement in knowledge. All the re- 
sources upon which, depending on the grace of 
God, he could rely in this arduous situation, 
were sincere desires to be useful, native vigor of 
mind, a fixed resolution to prepare himself for 
the duties to which Providence had called him, 
and we may add, a store of sound reflection on 
theology, an intuitive knowledge of human na- 
ture, and sagacity in remarking the workings of 
the human heart. 

For this situation, Dr. Baldwin proved him- 
self manifestly equal. And his success at least 
proves one thing, that a man of sense is at home 
any where. He here commenced that course of 
judicious theological and critical study, which 
laid the foundation of his extensive reputation, 
and which enabled him not only to serve the 
church in the pulpit, but also still more exten- 
sively to illustrate and defend her doctrines 
through the medium of the press. 

The ministry of Dr. Baldwin was at its com- 
mencement in this city, unusually blest. The 
revival which began while he was preaching as 
a candidate, continued without much interrup- 
tion for two years. To the second and first 



53 

Baptist Churches, more than one hundred were 
added during the year 1790. In 1791, addi- 
tions were made every month, sometimes to the 
number of nearly twenty. The whole number 
added to the second Church this year, was 
about seventy. 

At the time of Dr. Baldwin's installation, the 
number of members whose names were record- 
ed on the books of the church, was ninety. Of 
these, many were unknown, and had been long 
forgotten. The present number of the Church 
(1S26) is about four hundred and fifty. During 
Dr. Baldwin's ministry, he baptized more than 
six hundred and seventy, who were the fruits of 
his ministry in this city. 

Of his life, from the time of bis settlement to 
his death, very few records are extant. The 
history of a clergyman, who devotes himself to 
the appropriate labors of his office, is of course 
barren of incidents which would interest the 
world. It is the plain and reiterated account 
of studies, and visits, and conversations, and 
preaching, in which week after week has ia 
rapid succession been consumed. His world is 
the people of his charge, or to speak still more 
truly, and with still nicer restriction, it is that 
people seen only in the light of their moral re- 
lations. The changes in these relations are so 
5* 



54 

gradual, that generally the minister himself can 
hardly estimate them without comparing atten- 
tively, and at leisure, two pretty distant periods. 
To describe these slowly moving revolutions, 
the means by which they were produced, or the 
results by which they were made manifest, would 
savor of egotism, or frequently of senility. In 
this unostentatious labor, is the time of a minis- 
ter of Christ usually and most profitably em- 
ployed. Unseen, and noiseless as the evening 
dew, his influence descends upon the people of 
his charge ; and after his sun had set, and 
another had arisen, its effects are most visibly 
acknowledged in the moral loveliness of a suc- 
ceeding generation. 

Such was the general tenor of Dr. Baldwin's 
ministry. He was a faithful, affectionate, and 
devoted pastor. No man was, perhaps, ever 
more tenderly beloved by his church and con- 
gregation. Nor was his usefulness confined at 
all to these. He was, for the part of the city 
in which he lived, appropriately the minister of 
the poor, and of those who, but for him, might 
have said, *' No man careth for our souls." In 
the chamber of sickness, and the house of death, 
he was emphatically at home. His amiable de- 
portment, venerable appearance, and unassum- 
ing piety, rendered him the peculiar favorite of 



55 

those who felt themselves neglected by the world. 
He was their minister. To him they could un- 
burden their sorrows ; to him they could, as to a 
father, unbosom the overflowings of their peni- 
tence. He it was whom they wished to see at 
their bed-side, in the hour of their departure, 
and to commit the dust of their friends to its 
lone and silent grave. 

But not to this city alone was the usefulness 
of Dr. Baldwin restricted. Under his fostering 
hand, many of the churches in this vicinity 
arose, and by his parental care were they sus- 
tained. And it is no small praise both to his 
piety and to his ability, that they drank so uni- 
versally into his spirit. He had the faculty, the 
true evidence of greatness, of forming other 
men into his own likeness. And hence it is 
that his character has left so broad an impres- 
sion upon all this part of New England. The 
standard of the pulpit rose in his own denomi- 
nation every where around him. He assisted 
the young of his brethren in their attempts to 
acquire the advantages of education. He set 
before them an example of simple, unaffected 
piety. He was a man of peace, and hushed all 
their contentions, until in his vicinity contention 
was wholly forgotten. In few places of our 
country, perhaps, is there so great a degree of 



56 

harmony existing as in the associations of which 
Dr. Baldwin was a prominent member. This 
fact, all will unite in ascribing to his meek, pa- 
tient, wise, and upright precept and example. 

It was in labors such as these, that his life 
was principally consumed. There are, however, 
a few circumstances somewhat more deserving 
a particular notice. 

We have alluded to the revival of religion 
which was witnessed during the two first years 
of his settlement. After this subsided, the 
church continued for some time to advance with 
the growth which usually attends the faithful 
dispensation of the word and ordinances of the 
gospel. In the year 1797, the congregation had 
so much increased, that it was found necessary 
to enlarge their place of worship. This work 
was completed and the house re-opened on the 
30th of November, in that year. A sermon 
was preached by the pastor, on the occasion, 
from Psalm cxxii. 7, 8, 9 ; " Peace be within thy 
walls, and prosperity within thy palaces," &/C. 
And although the addition comprised two sev- 
enths of the whole house, yet the pews were 
soon taken up, and the house became as full as 
before the enlargement was made. 

In the year 1803, a second revival of religion, 
and the most remarkable that was witnessed 



57 

during Dr. Baldwin's ministry in this city, oc- 
curred. It extended to both the first and second, 
then the only Baptist Churches in Boston, and 
its results were felt also in the churches of other 
denominations. It is perhaps not too much to 
say, that the happy change in the religious views 
of a large portion of professing Christians in 
this city, may date its origin very evidently from 
this event. It continued for more than two 
years, and a very great number were the sub- 
jects of its salutary influences. 

The particular account of this work of the 
Holy Spirit, may be found in the first volume of 
the American Baptist Magazine, first series, 
numbers for September, 1804, and September, 
1805. To these we must refer our readers, as 
the narrative would be too extended for our 
present purpose. It will only be proper here to 
remark, that the attention commenced simulta- 
neously in both churches, in the spring of 1803. 
In September, October and November, of that 
year, the attention was the most solemn. In 
September of 1804, though somewhat abated, it 
was still pleasing and interesting; and it was 
not till August, 1805, nearly two years and a 
half from its commencement, that it could be 
considered to have terminated. During this 
period, the first church received one hundred 



58 

and thirty-five, and the second, two hundred 
and twelve ; in all, three hundred and forty- 
seven members. 

We cannot, whilst referring to this work of 
grace, omit a few extracts from the remarks 
which accompany the narrative to which we 
have alluded. We do it to illustrate the nature 
of the religious impressions then made upon the 
minds of the multitudes, who thronged the 
houses of worship, as well as to show the sound 
discretion of him whom God used as one of the 
principal instruments of their conversion. 

** This work," he remarks, " has, we believe, 
been carried on with as little noise and confu- 
sion as any of equal extent which has ever taken 
place in our land. We are far from thinking 
that there cannot be a good work where there 
is a considerable mixture of enthusiasm ; but 
still we think it not very desirable. There has 
been little or no outcry, swooning, Slc. in the 
present work. The mind has been silently, yet 
powerfully impressed. 

" The converts in general have appeared to 
have a deep and thorough sense of the depravi- 
ty of their own hearts, and of the infinite evil 
of sin as committed against a holy God. They 
have not so frequently expressed their fears of 
hell, as their dread of sin on account of the 



59 

wrong which it contains in itself. Comfort has 
been variously communicated. The precious 
promises have in some instances been power- 
fully applied. Others, on viewing the Divine 
character, have had instant joy infused into 
their souls. They have felt such a sweetness 
in meditating upon the perfections of God, and 
the glories of the Redeemer, as apparently to 
lose sight of every thing else. In other in- 
stances, light has been gradually let into the 
mind, and they have obtained evidence of their 
change, by finding within themselves the tem- 
pers and feelings of the gracious heart. 

** We add, in the last place, a remark upon 
the effects of this work on individuals, and on 
society at large. It has reclaimed the profane 
swearer, the Sabbath breaker, the gambler. It 
has made the * young men sober-minded/ It 
has formed the minds of all who have embraced 
it, to the love of virtue and religion. It has led 
them to the discharge of all the duties of social 
and religious life with conscientiousness and 
fidelity. In a word, it has laid a foundation to 
hope, that in future life they will so conduct, as 
to be ornaments to religion, and blessings to the 
world." To this, the most happy period of his 
ministry, Dr. Baldwin often referred with un- 
speakable pleasure to the very close of his life. 



60 



In September, 1803, Dr. Baldwin, by the ap- 
pointment of the Baptist Missionary Society of 
Massachusetts, commenced the publication of 
the American Baptist Magazine, then under the 
title of the Massachusetts Baptist Missionary 
Magazine. This work was first published semi- 
annually, then quarterly, afterwards once in two 
months, and at present, monthly. From its 
commencement until the year IS17, he was its 
sole editor. From 1817 until his death, he was 
its senior editor, and continued from time to time 
to enrich its pages with the results of his expe- 
rience, and the warnings of his wisdom. For 
many years, this was the only Baptist religious 
periodical work in America. To its influence, 
and to the labors of Dr. Baldwin by its means, 
may be ascribed in a great degree, the rapid pro- 
gress which has been made in his own denomi- 
nation in acquaintance with each other, in mis- 
sionary enterprise, and in religious knowledge. 

Dr. Baldwin has, however, been more exten- 
sively known to the world as an author, through 
his works on Baptism and Communion. The 
first of these was entitled, ** Open Communion 
Examined," and was originally published, in 
1789, at the request of the Woodstock Associa- 
tion, whilst the author resided in New Hamp- 
shire. The second was published in 1794, and 



61 

was in answer to a tract of the Rev. Noah Web* 
ster, entitled ** A Friendly Letter/' addressed 
to the author. In 1806, these were re-publish- 
ed in a volume, with the addition of an appendix, 
containing a reply to Mr. Edwards' '* Candid 
Reasons," together with additional remarks upon 
some sermons and pamphlets which had recent- 
ly appeared on the subject. 

The author's principal work in this contro- 
versy, was published in 1810, and is entitled, 
** A Series of Letters, in which the distinguishing 
sentiments of the Baptists are explained and 
vindicated, in answer to a late publication by 
the Rev. Samuel Worcester, A. M. addressed 
to the author, entitled, Serious and Candid Let- 
ters." This is a volume of about two hundred 
and fifty pages, and contains a pretty ample dis- 
cussion of the principal topics of dispute be- 
tween the Baptists and Pedo-baptists. This is 
considered the ablest of Dr. Baldwin's produc- 
tions. It was written in the meridian of his 
strength, upon a subject on which he had long 
and deeply reflected, and at a time when, by 
repeated trials, he had become aware of his own 
power, and could fearlessly rely upon the de- 
cisions of his own intellect. It has accordingly 
given him a more extensive reputation than any 
other of his works, both on this and the other 
6 



6g 

side of the Atlantic. The late Rev. Andrew 
Fuller, than whom no man was better able to 
decide upon its merits, pronounced this the 
ablest discussion of the question, he had ever 
seen. 

To enter into an analysis of these letters, 
would, on this occasion be irrelevant to our ob- 
ject. It could not be done without presenting 
an abstract of the whole matter in dispute. It 
will be sufficient to remark, that the letters enter 
quite fully into the merits of the controversy on 
most of its points, and they every where exhibit 
a vigor of intellect, an acuteness of logic, and 
a perspicuity of reasoning, not often to be met 
with in works of this nature. Their style is 
simple, forcible, and direct; sometimes enliven- 
ed by the easy playfulness of a man, who feels 
entirely at home in his subject, and at others 
repelling with manly dignity the unhandsome 
aspersions, which, in those days, it was too com- 
mon to heap upon the Baptists, or those who de- 
fended them. Now that the hour of controversy 
has gone by, it is not, we believe, denied by 
candid men, even of other denominations, that, 
able as was his antagonist, and he was in his 
lifetime the leader of his sect, yet that Dr. 
Baldwin had the decided advantage in the ar- 
gument. 



63 

Besides these works, Dr. Baldwin published 
in the year 1820, a short Essay on the subject 
of John's Baptism, a question which at that 
time, in consequence of the allusion to it in Mr. 
Hall's work on Communion, was considerably 
agitated. The design of the author was to es- 
tablish the position, that John's baptism was 
Christian baptism ; a doctrine which many were 
laboring to subvert. This, although written 
with ability, is probably inferior to his other 
works on this controversy. If, however, it lacks 
somewhat of the vigor of his former produc- 
tions, it should be remembered that the man of 
seventy is not in all respects the man of forty- 
five. 

While thus actively engaged in the arduous 
labors of a pastor, as the editor of an important 
periodical work, and as a successful polemical 
writer, it will of course be supposed that Dr. 
Baldwin received those marks of public atten- 
tion which are usually bestowed upon those who 
rise to eminence in their profession. He was 
repeatedly chosen chaplain of the General Court 
of this Commonwealth. In 1802, he was ap- 
pointed to deliver the annual sermon on the day 
of the General Election. This sermon was re- 
ceived with great attention, and is thus noticed 
in the New York American Review : 



64 

*^This discourse was originally published in 
Boston, by order of the House of Representa- 
tives of Massachusetts ; but having proved more 
than usually acceptable to the public, a second 
edition, it seems, was called for ; and the de- 
mand still increasing, a third impression in this 
city was thought proper. These circumstances 
alone, afford strong presumption in favor of the 
discourse. 

** The text is chosen from 1 Peter, ii. 16 ; 
* As free, and not using your liberty for a cloak 
of maliciousness; but as the servants of God.' 
From this passage, the author considers him- 
self as naturally led to make the following in- 
quiries : 

** When may a people be said to be free ? 
What are the means best calculated to preserve 
their freedom, and promote their happiness and 
prosperity ? And in what respects they are in 
danger from the abuse of their liberty. *' 

^' These several questions are discussed with 
much good sense; and though Mr. Baldwin is 
necessarily led, in the course of this discussion, 
to speak of political points which are much con- 
troverted, and even to advert to those topics of 
American policy which have so much divided 
and agitated our citizens ; yet he guards against 
every thing that approaches to party virulence, 



65 

and expresses himself, on every point of a polit- 
ical nature which he touches, with great dignity 
and mildness. 

**On the whole, we consider this discourse 
as belonging to the superior order of sermons ; 
and though the sentiments are not new, nor the 
style remarkably polished, yet both are suffi- 
ciently interesting to give much pleasure to the 
intelligent and candid reader." 

In 1803, he was admitted to the degree of 
Doctor in Divinity, at Union College, New York. 
The degree of Master of Arts had been some 
time previously conferred upon him by Brown 
University, R, I. Of this Institution he was 
first a trustee, and at the time of his decease, 
had been for many years the senior fellow. Of 
Waterville College, Maine, to which he had been 
a liberal benefactor, he was a trustee from its 
first organization. Of most of the benevolent 
institutions of this city, he was an active mana- 
ger, and of not a few the presiding officer. At 
the time of his death, he was President of the 
Baptist Board of Managers for Foreign Mis- 
sions, and one of the trustees of the Columbian 
College, in the District of Columbia. He was 
a member of the Convention for amending the 
Constitution of the Commonwealth of Massa- 
chusetts, in the year 1821, and in all its delibe- 
6* 



^ 



68 

rations, specially those which had any bearing 
upon the subject of religious liberty, he took an 
active part, and not unfrequently spoke with 
unusual ability. 

To those who were acquainted with his repu- 
tation, it is needless to remark, that of his own 
denomination in the northern States, he stood 
decidedly at the head. No important associa- 
tion seemed complete unless it had enrolled him 
as its President. No measure seemed to promise 
success, and it is but a just tribute to his wis- 
dom to add, that very few succeeded, which had 
not received his sanction. His brethren may 
with much justice say of him, ** Unto him men 
gave ear, and waited and kept silence at his 
counsel. After his words they spake not 
again, and his speech dropped upon them. 
He chose out our way, and sat chief, and dwelt 
as a king in the army, as one that comforteth 
the mourners." 

Within this widely extended sphere of useful- 
ness, beloved and respected by all good men of 
every station, and of every sect, did Dr. Bald- 
win walk until the close of life. No gusts of 
passion, no bitterness of resentment, no secta- 
rian jealousy had alienated friends or exaspe- 
rated enemies. He retained the entire confi- 
dence and veneration of the community to the 



67 

last ; for at the first, having honestly deserved 
it, by meekness and humility, and sincerity, he 
daily evinced that v^^ith no other man could it 
be so safely trusted. 

About seven years before his death, he was 
attacked with a slight paralytic affection, which 
gave his friends the first intimation that his ac- 
tive labors were drawing to a close. From this 
his physical system soon recovered ; but he 
always believed that his mind had received an 
injury, which would never be repaired. He 
sometimes alluded to it with some degree of 
emotion, and seemed aware that his mental en- 
ergies, particularly his memory, were sensibly 
enfeebled. Whether the change was owing to 
this attack or not, it is probable that his estima- 
tion of himself, was correct. It was not, how- 
ever, until about four years before his death, that 
his friends would allow that they beheld in his 
intellect any of the infirmities of age. 

And when these were at last discovered, they 
were such as rendered him to the pious and the 
kind man, even more than ever interesting. Old 
age had imparled none of its fretfulness, but on 
the contrary, shed abroad upon him yet more 
abundantly, the grace of Christian charity. — 
The power with which he once could grasp a 
difficult subject, and pursue to its result a strik- 



68 

ing chain of illustration, seemed perhaps gradu- 
ally in his public performances to be leaving 
him ; but yet the ardor of his piety was una- 
bated, and his parental exhortations were fre- 
quently inimitably affecting. He spoke in the 
undisguised sincerity of his heart, as a man on 
the brink of eternity ; and an audience would 
sometimes be melted into tears by the exhorta- 
tion of his old age, which would probably have 
remained unaffected and unmoved by the elo- 
quence of his more vigorous manhood. 

In private conversation, the change was far 
less perceptible. His memory, as is usually the 
case, was the power of his mind on which the 
hand of age had been laid most heavily. This 
was not, however, often discovered, unless he 
was suffering under the pressure of some tem- 
porary indisposition. His judgment remained 
almost entire, to the last. We do not mean to 
say, that he could comprehend a train of ab- 
struse reasoning as readily as at forty-five, or 
see as intuitively the results of moral combina- 
tions ; but on a matter once fairly before him, 
his opinion during the last year of his life, was 
as sound as ever. As is common to old age, he 
delighted more in the narrative than in the ab- 
stract ; but his narrative was always interesting, 
and his illustration pertinent and happy. And 



69 

thus, like the sun at his setting, what was want- 
ing in meridian splendor, was more than sup- 
plied by the mild radiance on which the eye 
delighted to dwell, and which threw abroad its 
rich and mellowed glories more profusely, the 
nearer it approached to the moment of its de- 
parture. 

For about a year before his decease, his 
strength began visibly to decline. His feeble 
voice and tottering step, too well fore-warned 
his friends that his venerable form was soon to 
be gathered to his fathers. Of this, he himself 
was aware ; and frequently, both in public and 
in private, alluded with much feeling to the hour 
of his departure, now so rapidly approaching. 
Rarely, for some time before his death, did he 
attend a meeting with his brethren in the min- 
istry, without alluding to the fact, that he might 
never meet with them again. Scarcely could 
he hear of the happy departure of a saint, es- 
pecially if he were aged, or a minister of the 
gospel, without betraying visible emotion. It 
was not the fear of death. Dr. Baldwin was 
not afraid to die. His faith was firm, his hope 
was unclouded. It was the tear which nature 
sheds over the sundering of long-cherished, of 
much-loved relations. It was the tear which an 
apostle shed when standing for the last time, on 



70 

the sea shore of Miletus, or which a greater 
than an apostle shed, when surrounded by the 
weeping sisters, at the sad tomb of Bethany. 

Dr. Baldwin, as our readers are already ap- 
prised, died suddenly, and from home. He had 
left Boston to attend the commencement of 
Waterville College, and arrived at Hallowell, on 
Wednesday, August 24. The voyage seemed 
beneficial to his health, and on the succeeding 
Sabbath, he preached twice in the Baptist Meet- 
ing-house in that town. In the morning, his 
text was in Prov. xix. 23 : *' The fear of the 
Lord tendeth to life ; and he that hath it shall 
abide satisfied." His design in this discourse 
was, to show that religion had a good effect on 
those that embraced it ; that it not only insured 
eternal life, but was often the means of prolong- 
ing life to old age, and that it afforded the only 
rational happiness in this world, and those who 
possessed it always remained satisfied, and en- 
joyed more than their anticipations. Hence he 
urged the necessity of becoming religious, par- 
ticularly to the young, in order to secure a per- 
manent good in the present world, and everlast- 
ing felicity in the world to come. On this oc- 
casion was sung the 119th Psalm, I'Jth part, 
L. M., and 122d Hymn, 2d book. 



71 

His text in the afternoon was, Galla. ii. 20 : 
'* The life which I now live in the flesh, I live 
by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, 
and gave himself for me." In this last dis- 
course, he declared his belief in the divinity of 
Christ, and adduced some evidence of it from 
the Scriptures ; he bore testimony to the sup- 
ports, which, during his long life, he had deriv- 
ed from the gospel of Jesus Christ. He de- 
clared that his only hope of pardon and accept- 
ance with God, was through the mediation of a 
crucified Redeemer. With an emphasis which 
sensibly affected his audience, he adopted as his 
own, the language of his text, and declared, 
** The life which / live in the flesh, I live by 
the faith of the Son of God, who loved me^ and 
gave himself for me." He earnestly and affec- 
tionately exhorted his hearers to live a life of 
faith ; expressed his belief that it was the last 
time which he should ever address them, or they 
should hear the gospel from his lips. He was 
now standing, he told them, on the brink of the 
grave, on the verge of eternity ! and he ardently 
desired, that they would listen to the accents of 
mercy, and regard this solemn admonition. He 
f^lt a deep solicitude for their happiness, and 
hoped to meet all the congregation on the high 
hills of salvation ; to unite with all the redeem-^ 



72 

ed millions, in ascribing the praise and the glory 
to Him, that had loved them, and given himself 
for them. As he was concluding the discourse, 
he was exceedingly animated. He seemed like 
Stephen, to have been looking into heaven, and 
anticipating the glory which awaited him. 

Before the first prayer, the 77th Hymn, 1st 
Book, was sung; after the prayer, the lOOtb 
Hymn, 1st Book ; and after the sermon, the 
71st Psalm, 1st Part,, C. AL, which was pecu- 
liarly appropriate. 

My God, my everlasting hope. 

I live upon thy truth : 
Thine hands have held my childhood up^ 

And strengthen'd all my youth. 

My flesh was fashion'd by thy power^ 
With all these limbs of mine ; 

And from my mother's painful hour^ 
I've been entirely thine. 

Still has my life new wonders seen, 

Repeated ev'ry year ; 
Behold my days that yet remain, 

I trust them to thy care. 

Cast me not off when strength declines, 

When hoary hairs arise ; 
And round me let thy glory shine, 

Whene'er thy servant dies. 

Then in the hist'ry of my age, 

When men review my days, 
They'll read thy love in ev'ry page. 

In ev'ry line thy praise. 



73 

A great solemnity was apparent in the con- 
gregation, and much feeling. The pastor of 
the church offered the hist prayer, and read this 
interesting Psalm. The feelings of the venera- 
ble ambassador seemed for a moment to be 
transferred to him, and the sentiments which it 
contained were heard with evident emotion. 
His audience felt assured that this was his last 
testimony to them in favor of the gospel ; but 
little did they think he was so near the end of 
his journey, and that they should see his face 
no more. 

On the following day, August 29, he proceed- 
ed to Waterville. He seemed better for the ride, 
spent the afternoon in walking over the College 
premises, and examining the condition of the 
Institution. In the evening he officiated at 
the domestic altar, with peculiar devotion and 
solemnity, and after bidding each individual an 
affectionate adieu, retired to rest at about nine 
o'clock. After sleeping apparently well for 
about an hour, he seemed to awake, and answer- 
ed in his usual manner, respecting his health ; 
he then suddenly groaned, and was no more. 
His usefulness and his life terminated together. 
Spared the pains of death, and the agonies of 
separation, "he was not, for God took him;" 
and almost while he listened to the voice of af- 
7 



74 

fection on earth, the plaudit burst upon his ear, 
** Well done, good and faithful servant, enter 
thou into the joy of thy Lord." 

Every token of respect for the memory of the 
deceased was shown by the Trustees and Fac- 
ulty of Waterville College. On Wednesday, his 
remains, enclosed in a leaden coffin, were sent 
to Boston, attended by the Hon. Mark Harris, of 
Portland, who had been appointed by the Trus- 
tees to accompany the afflicted widow with her 
sad charge, to the place of its former residence. 
They arrived there on Friday, September 2. 

On Monday, September 5, a prayer was offer- 
ed at the house of the deceased, by the Rev. 
Stephen Gano, of Providence. The other 
funeral services were attended at the Meeting- 
house of the Second Baptist Church, by a 
thronged and deeply affected congregation. — 
The Rev. Joseph Grafton, of Newton, who of^ 
fered the concluding prayer at the installation 
of the deceased, prayed. Rev. Mr. Sharp, of 
Boston, delivered the funeral discourse from 
Acts xi. 24. *' He was a good man." Rev. Mr. 
Wayland closed the services with prayer. The 
body was then conveyed to the family tomb, fol- 
lowed by thousands, who were anxious to testify 
their respect for this faithful and distinguished 
servant^of the Lord Jesus Christ. 



75 

Dr. Baldwin was twice married. His second 
wife was Miss Margaret Duncan, of Haverhill, 
Mass., who still survives, to mourn her irrepara- 
ble loss.* 

It only remains that we close this imperfect 
memoir with a kw remarks upon the character 
of Dr. Baldwin, and a list of his publications. 

The history of a man's life is the only sure 
evidence of his ability. What a man has done 
we hold to be proof positive of his power. — 
Judged by this standard, Dr. Baldwin certainly 
will be ranked among the most eminent men of 
his profession in this country. To say nothing 
of his publications, some of which have become 
standard works on the subjects of which they 
treat, it is evident that no man not highly gifted 
of nature, could ever, under his circumstances, 
have acquired so extensive an influence, and re- 
tained it to the last, entire and undiminished. 
Men do not confide their interests into the hands 
of another, unless he be abler than themselves. 
And he, who for so long a time united the suf- 
frages of all, could only have retained them by 
giving repeated proofs of undoubted native pre- 
eminence. 

And this consideration will be more striking, 
if we recollect the circumstances under which 

^She is still living, March, 1841. 



•)i 



76 

Dr. Baldwin entered the ministry in this city. 
He had not been favored in early life with a 
classical education, and his opportunities for in- 
tellectual improvement had been limited ; but 
he was endowed with talents of a superior order; 
and had acquired considerable knowledge of 
human nature. He was of an age at which the 
intellectual habits of most men are formed. 
They are too wise to learn, and too much at- 
tached to the habits of their early education to 
amend them. Hence, too frequently, to men of 
this age, a change of location is the end of use- 
fulness. But not so with the subject of this 
memoir. The change was a great one, but he 
was equal to it. He looked upon the relations 
of society in the light of common sense and of 
truth. He perceived what was required in the 
situation which he had entered. He saw what 
he wanted ; and in the strength of a mind com- 
petent to dictate terms to itself, he resolved to 
supply it. He threw aside what was unsuitable 
to his present station ; he performed with his 
full ability what that station required ; and soon 
found what he, who honestly does his duty, will 
always find, that he was competent to the work 
which Providence had assigned him. 

The prominent trait in Dr. Baldwin's intel- 
lectual character, was vigorous and manly dis- 



77 

crimination. His imagination was not luxuriant, 
nor had his taste acquired that accuracy of tact, 
which is only the result of an early acquaint- 
ance with the classics of language. Hence he 
succeeded best in a train of ratiocination, espec- 
ially if it were one which led to an urgent appeal 
to the conscience ; therefore, his style is remark- 
able more for perspecuity than elegance. It is 
clear and forcible, but not embellished ; and it 
gains nothing, when the author attempts to 
adorn it. 

In public life, Dr. Baldwin combined in a 
rare degree, unbending rectitude with unsophis- 
ticated kindness of heart. In the discharge of 
his duty, he never knew fear. He was naturally 
above any thing like timidity ; and religious 
principle had still more effectually taught him 
to do right '^uncaring consequences." And 
yet no man could have more carefully avoided 
unnecessarily injuring the feelings of the most 
insignificant human being. He rigidly obeyed 
the command, ** Speak evil of no man." In 
company, or at home, he either spoke kindly, or 
was silent. While true to a hair's breadth, to 
the principles which he believed, he gave full 
credit to the honesty and the rectitude of those 
from whom he differed. Hence was it, that he 
so often obtained the blessing of a peace maker. 



78 

Hence he maintained to the last, the entire con- 
fidence of men of the most conflicting opinions, 
and even came off from the arena of theological 
controversy, rich in the esteem even of those 
whom his argument failed to convince. 

But it was in the retirement of domestic life, 
as the husband, the father, and the friend, that 
you beheld him clothed in the most endearing 
attributes. It was here that he shed around 
him the bland and attractive lustre of finished 
moral excellence. His disposition was in a pre- 
eminent degree charitable, kind and benevolent. 
To know him at home, was to venerate and love 
him. Always self-possessed, always dignified, 
yet always instructing, and always cheerful, no 
one could long be unhappy beneath his hospita- 
ble roof. The writer of this feeble attempt to 
delineate his character, was for four years in the 
habit of seeing him daily, and on terms of the 
most familiar intercourse ; and for nearly half 
of this time, was an inmate of his family, and 
remarked his deportment under every variety of 
circumstances ; and he can truly say, that he 
does not recollect to have ever seen him betray 
a temper inconsistent with the Christian pro- 
fession. 

The character of his piety corresponded, as 
might be expected, with the type of his mind. 



79 

It was visible in the firm adherence to truth, 
and the conscientious practice of what he be- 
lieved to be his duty. This was at the same 
time blended with fervent charity and ardent 
love for souls, lie was a sincere believer in the 
doctrines of the Reformation, and his daily life 
manifest their influence upon his heart. If any 
one feature of his piety was more prominent 
than another, it was meek, child-like humility. 
This was seen in every walk of life, and every 
where did it add a new charm to his other excel- 
lent endowments. 

As a preacher, he stood among the most em- 
inent of his time, in the denomination of which 
he was so long the distinguished ornament. He 
has published more than thirty sermons preach- 
ed on particular occasions, and all of them are 
deserving of attentive perusal. In all of them 
may be discovered the traces of strong and ac- 
curate reflection, or of fervent and deeply affect- 
ed piety. Sometimes they are remarkable for 
acute and original argument, and at others, for 
tender and overflowing feeling. Whatever was 
his subject, he always left upon his audience the 
conviction of his own sincere and earnest solici- 
tude for their everlasting good. His expostula- 
tions with the young, were in a remarkable de- 
gree affectionate, parental and pathetic. Very 



80 

frequently on such occasions, he was moved 
even to tears. 

His manner in the pulpit was dignified, sim- 
ple, and unaffected. He rarely wrote his ser- 
mons in full, and not geneially, at least in the 
latter part of his life, did he even furnish him- 
self with a copious skeleton. His preparation 
most commonly consisted in studious reflection 
upon his subject, and writing merely the leading 
divisions. To this method he had been earliest 
accustomed, and in this manner he was proba- 
bly more generally successful. Some of his 
ablest printed sermons were preached in this 
manner, and never written till after their delive- 
ry. Though far from being prejudiced against 
the use of notes, he was fully, and doubtless 
very truly aware, that at the present day, at 
least in New England, there is as much danger 
to be apprehended from too great a reliance upon 
writing, as there is from not writing at all. 

In person. Dr. Baldwin was rather above the 
usual size, firmly and strongly built, and towards 
the close of his life barely inclined to corpulen- 
cy. His countenance was dignified, mild, and 
engaging, and his hair, of late years, perfectly 
white, rendered his whole appearance in the 
highest degree venerable. His habits were tem- 
perate and regular, without being formal or 



81 

ascetic. Hence it will be readily imagined, that 
he uniformly left upon every one, the impression 
of old age in its loveliest and most interesting 
aspect, and Christianity in its mildest, and most 
attractive exhibition. 

The following, we believe, is an accurate 
enumeration of Dr. Baldwin's published works. 

1. The Baptism of Believers only, and the 
Particular Communion of the Baptist Churches, 
explained and vindicated. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 340. 

2. A Series of Letters, in which the distin- 
guishing sentiments of the Baptists are explain- 
ed and vindicated ; in answer to a publication 
by the Rev. Samuel Worcester, A. M. address- 
ed to the author, entitled. Serious and Candid 
Letters. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 244. 

3. An Essay on the Baptism of John, in 
two parts. 

4. Letter to a Friend. 

5. The Backslider. A Tract. 

6. A Catechism. This valuable work had 
passed through six editions in 1826. 

Besides these, the following Sermons were 
preached on various occasions, and published 
by special request. 

7. A Sermon delivered at Bridgewater, De- 
cember 17, 1794, at the Ordination of the Rev. 
David Leonard, to the work of an Evangelist. 



82 

8. A Sermon delivered February 19, 1795, 
being the day of Public Thanksgiving through- 
out the United States. 

9. A Sermon delivered at Boston, on Tues- 
day, April 2, 1799, at a quarterly meeting of 
several churches, for special prayer. 

10. A Sermon delivered at Boston, July II, 
1799, at the Ordination of Rev. Wm. Collier. 

11. A Sermon delivered to the Second Bap- 
tist Society, in Boston, on Lord's day, Decem- 
ber 29, 1799, occasioned by the death of Gen. 
George Washington, who departed this life the 
14th inst. aged 68 years. 

12. An Approved Workman in the Gospel 
Ministry. A Sermon delivered at Templeton, 
October 16, 1800, at the Installation of the Rev. 
Elisha Andrews to the pastoral care of the Bap- 
tist Church and Congregation in that town. 

13. A Sermon preached February 15, 1802, 
before the Honorable Senate and House of Rep- 
resentatives of the Commonwealth of Massachu- 
setts, on the day of the interment of His Honor 
Samuel Phillips, Lieutenant Governor. 

14. A Sermon delivered before His Excellen- 
cy Caleb Strong, Governor, the Honorable the 
Council, Senate and House of Representatives 
of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, May 
26, 1802, being the day of General Election. 



83 

15. A Sermon delivered at Barnstable, July 

14, 1802, at the Installation of Rev. John Peak 
to the care of the Baptist Church and Congre- 
gation in that town. 

16. A Sermon delivered at the Dedication 
of the new Meeting-house, in Bellingham, Octo- 
ber 27, 1802. 

17. A Sermon delivered at Beverly, June 15, 
1S03, at the Installation of the Rev. Elisha 
Williams to the pastoral care of the Baptist 
Church and Congregation in that town. 

18. The Eternal purpose of God the foun- 
dation of effectual Calling. A Sermon deliv- 
ered before the First Baptist Society, in Boston, 
Lord's-day morning, February 19, 1804. 

19. A Sermon delivered May 23, 1804, in 
the Baptist Meeting-house, Gold Street, New- 
York, at the Ordination of the Rev. Jeremiah 
Chaplain. 

20. A Sermon delivered in Boston, May 30, 
1804, before the Baptist Missionary Society of 
Massachusetts ; being their second anniversary. 

21. The Happiness of a People illustrated 
and explained. A Sermon delivered before the 
Second Baptist Society, in Boston, Nov. 29, 
1804 ; being the day of Annual Thanksgiving 

22. A Sermon delivered at Sedgwick, May 

15, 1805, at the Ordination of the Rev. Daniel 



84 

Merrill to the pastoral charge of the Baptist 
Church of Christ in that place. 

23. A Discourse delivered before the Mem- 
bers of the Boston Female Asylnm, September 
26, 1806 ; being their sixth anniversary. 

24. The Peaceful Reflections and Glorious 
Prospects of the departing Saint. A Discourse 
delivered in the Meeting-house of the First Bap- 
tist Church, in Boston, March 16, 1807, at the 
interment of the Rev. Samuel Stillman, D. D. 
late Pastor of said Church. 

25. A Discourse delivered before the Ancient 
and Honorable Artillery Company, in Boston, 
June 1, 1807; being the anniversary of their 
election of officers. 

26. The Dangerous Influence of Vicious 
Example. A Sermon delivered in the Second 
Baptist Meeting-house, in Boston, on Lord's-day 
evening. May 28, 1809. 

27. A Discourse delivered January 1, 1811, 
at the opening of the new Meeting-house be- 
longing to the Second Baptist Church and So- 
ciety, in Boston. 

28. The Supreme Deity of Christ Illustrat- 
ed. A Discourse delivered Lord's-day, April 
19, 1812, before the Second Baptist Church and 
Congregation in Boston ; with an Appendix, 
containing remarks on the te^ms, *'Only begot- 
ten Son of God," &,c. 



85 

29. The Knowledge of the Lord filling the 
Earth. A Sermon delivered in Boston, June 4, 
1812, before the Massachusetts Bible Society ; 
being their third anniversary. 

30. Heirs of Grace. A Sermon delivered 
at Charlestown, September 26, 1813; occasion- 
ed by the death of Mrs. Abigail Collier, wife of 
the Rev. William Collier, Pastor of the Baptist 
Church in said town. 

31. The Christian Ministry. A Sermon 
delivered on Wednesday, March 30, 1814, in 
the First Baptist Meeting-house in Boston, at 
the Installation of the Rev. James M. Winchell. 

32. Missionary Exertions Encouraged. A 
Sermon delivered in Sansom Street Meeting- 
house, Philadelphia, May 7, 1817, before the 
General Convention of the Baptist denomina- 
tion in the United States. 

33. A Sermon delivered at Cambridge, De- 
cember 25, 1817, at' the opening of a new 
Meeting-house, and the constitution of a Bap- 
tist Church in that place. 

34. The danger of living without the Fear 
of God. A Discourse on Robbery, Piracy and 
Murder, in which Duelling and Suicide are par- 
ticularly considered. Delivered in Boston, Feb- 
ruary 21, 1819, the Lord's-day following the 
execution of the pirates. 

8 



S6 

35. A Sermon delivered February 25, 1820, 
at the Funeral of the Rev. James M. Winchell, 
A. M. late pastor of the First Baptist Church in 
Boston. 

36. The Duty of Parents to Children. A 
Sermon delivered in the Meeting-house of the 
Second Baptist Church and Society in Boston 
on the afternoon of Lord's-day, March 17, 1822, 

37. A Discourse delivered in the Second Bap- 
tist Meeting-house in Boston, on the first Lord's- 
day in January, 1824. With an Appendix, con- 
taining Historical Sketches of the Church and 
Society, from their commencement to the present 
time. 



APPENDIX. 



Dr. Baldwin was always desirous to promote 
the welfare of his people. He commenced, three 
or four years previous to his death, a series of 
letters to the young people of his charge ; but 
owing to the multiplicity of his engagements, he 
had written but one. Should this fall into the 
hands of any of them, they will perceive, that 
though dead, he yet speaketh. 

PASTORAL LETTER. 

The serious advice of an aged Pastor, to the 

young people of his charge. 
Dear Childre'n, 

The tender solicitude which parents feel for 
their offspring, will induce them to do or suffer 
almost any thing to promote their happiness. 
But in too many instances, this solicitude ex- 
tends only to objects connected with their tem- 
poral prosperity. A pious parent, however, will 
feel a much greater solicitude for the spiritual 
welfare of his children, than for their temporal 
happiness. A faithful and affectionate Pastor 



88 

feels an anxiety for the prosperity of the young 
people of his charge, similar to that of an affec- 
tionate father for his children. 

He takes a lively interest in whatever con- 
cerns their welfare, and like a faithful friend, he 
participates in their sorrows and joys. But as a 
Christian minister, he can have no greater joy 
than to see his '* children walking in the truth." 

In discharging the important duties of a Pas- 
tor, I have for many years had the happiness of 
addressing publicly, a large number of young 
people; many of whom have, from time to time, 
been hopefully brought to the knowledge of the 
truth. In addition to the numerous opportuni- 
ties of imparting public instruction, a goodly 
number have given me pleasure of conversing 
with them in a more intimate manner on the 
great concerns of their souls. There are many 
others, however, who attend on my ministry, 
with whom I have no personal acquaintance ; 
but being desirous, if possible, ** to present every 
man perfect in Christ," I cannot satisfy myself 
without making some further efforts to bring 
them to the knowledge of salvation. 

With a view to this important object, I have 
thought it might be useful to address them in a 
series of letters ; in which it is proposed to ex- 
hibit, in a plain and intelligible manner, the 



89 

principal doctrines and duties of the Christian 
religion ; to point out some of the most danger- 
ous errors to which young people are more espec- 
ially exposed ; and also suggest such general 
rules of conduct as may tend to preserve them 
from their fatal influence. 

My reasons for addressing the young people 
of my charge rather than others, are by no means 
founded on a disregard to the interest of those 
in more advanced life ; but the special encour- 
agement given in the word of God, as well as 
the experience of past ages, unitedly suggest the 
obvious propriety of the measure. 

A large and interesting part of almost every 
religious society, is made up of young people. 
These consequently claim a large share of pa- 
rental and pastoral attention. If in early life, 
they are led to imbibe just principles, and form 
correct moral habits, their future usefulness and 
respectability may be hoped for on the most ra- 
tional ground. On the other hand, if they are 
suffered to grow up in ignorance and impiety, 
they will become vicious in their habits, and dis- 
solute in their manners ; and thus, instead of 
being blessings to their parents, they will pierce 
their hearts with many sorrows. 

The state of society must be deplorably 
wretched, where the education of children is 
8* 



90 

neglected. We may as well expect to gather 
grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles, as to find 
correct moral habits and amiable manners where 
religious instruction is withheld. 

It is not the design of these letters to point 
out the different modes of instruction, which 
might be successfully pursued ; but to impart 
some general principles which are essential to 
form a virtuous and amiable character. 

In espousing your cause, my respected young 
friends, I confess I feel an ardor bordering on 
enthusiasm. ** But if I am beside myself, it is 
for your sakes." When I consider the value of 
your immortal souls, the immense price which 
has been paid for their redemption ; I tremble 
at the thought of your remaining impenitent, 
and am induced to make this feeble effort hop- 
ing it may be blessed to your everlasting good. 

Need I apologise for thus addressing you ? 
Surely not. I will still presume that you will 
seriously listen while " age speaks," and one 
who has had years of experience attempts to 
teach you wisdom. ** Come, then, ye children, 
hearken unto me, I will teach you the fear of the 
Lord." ** If you desire life, and to live many 
days that you may see good, keep your tongue 
from evil, and your lips from speaking guile." 
*' Depart from evil, and do good, seek peace, and 
pursue it." 



91 



As your circumstances in life have been some- 
what different, your opportunities for improve- 
ment must have been equally so. You can be 
blameable only for not improving such means as 
have been in your power. You cannot all be 
rich, but you may through grace, all be good. 
You cannot all fill the same rank in society, 
but you may all be virtuous. You will not 
be accountable for talents which you never pos- 
sessed, but for the improvement of those with 
which God has intrusted you. You must re- 
member, however, that your virtuous and vic- 
ious habits depend on your own choice. No 
one will ever be rewarded for the good which 
he may have done without designing it ; nor 
will he be punished for the evil which he never 
intended. 

While multitudes of Christians are engaged 
in sending the gospel to the poor benighted 
heathen, is it not affecting to perceive the aston- 
ishing ignorance of many young persons who 
have been brought up in this land of Bibles, 
with respect to the plainest and most important 
truths of revealed religion. 

Much of this ignorance in children, is un- 
doubtedly to be attributed to the neglect of pa- 
rents and others, who have the care of their 
education ; but probably much more to their 



92 

own heedlessness and inattention ; or what is 
more, to their criminal aversion to the holy na- 
ture of the gospel. If, my young friends, you 
have ever reflected on this subject, or have any 
acquaintance with your own hearts, you must 
be sensible of a strong propensity to sinful ob- 
jects ; particuJarly to the unhallowed pleasures 
and vanities of the world ; and of an aversion 
equally strong to the serious and devout exer- 
cises of the Christian life. This propensity, in 
in a thousand instances, has carried you against 
all the remonstrances of reason and conscience, 
into the commission of known offences against 
God. You also know what painful reflections, 
what shame and remorse, these criminal indul- 
gences at first occasioned. But by repeating 
them often, have you not found the reproaches 
of conscience less severe ? and the way to sin- 
ful indulgence growing daily more plain and 
easy ? If this indeed be your case, be assured 
it is most dangerous. It indicates an awful in- 
sensibility and hardness of heart, which alone 
can account for such fatal apathy. This temper, 
cherished and persisted in, will terminate in 
your final and everlasting ruin. 

What apology, my young friends, have you to 
offer for neglecting the great salvation ? Can 
the transitory enjoyments of the mean and 



93 

sordid pleasures of sense, compensate for the 
loss of an eternity of real happiness ? Earth's 
highest pleasures can never satisfy an immortal 
mind. Nor will these pleasures always last. 
They all perish in the using. Think, then, I 
beseech you, what your condition will be, when 
these, poor as they are, shall all forsake you 
forever. Where will you then look for conso- 
lation ? Will a recollection of your past indul- 
gences, for the sake of which you neglected the 
great salvation, yield you any pleasure v O, no ! 
the very thought will overwhelm you with con- 
fusion. Will you think of taking refuge in re- 
ligion, because earthly comforts can no longer 
sustain you ? Like Joab, will you now lay hold 
of the horns of that altar, at which you never 
before bowed ? As you have despised and neg- 
lected religion, when its aid was kindly offered, 
will it not now abandon you ? Will you not 
stand confounded when your Judge shall address 
you saying, ** Because I have called and ye re- 
fused ; I have stretched out my hand and no 
man regarded, but ye have set at nought all my 
counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also 
will laugh at your calamity, and mock when 
your fear cometh." 

Does not such criminal inattention to the all- 
important concerns of eternity, argue some 



94 

latent source of depravity in the heart ? Some 
native and powerful aversion to that which is 
good ? Can it be rationally accounted for upon 
any other principle ? To this corrupt fountain 
all the impure streams are to be traced. It is 
this which disqualifies the soul for the service 
and enjoyment of God. It is this which deadens 
all the sensibilities of the soul, and renders it 
€asy in sin. Let me beseech you, my dear 
young friends, to embrace the Saviour, before 
the door of mercy is forever shut. Listen, O 
listen to this exhortation ; it may be the last 
which I may have opportunity to give, or some 
of you to hear. Should I be spared to address 
you again, I propose in my next to enter upon 
the nature and effects of depravity. 

Affectionately yours, for Christ's sake, 

T. B. 

Solemn is the thought, that he was not spared 
to complete this series of letters ; nor to make 
any addition to this introduction. It is there- 
fore to the youth, a voice from the grave ; from 
the world of spirits ; it is the voice of God ad- 
dressing them, and urging on them, in the most 
serious manner, the everlasting concerns of 
their souls. 



95 

Extracts from Letters to Dr. Gano, of Prov-^ 
idence, Rhode Island, 

April 4, 1805. 
Mt/ dear Brother^ 

1 rejoice to hear that your health is improv- 
ing. I hope the Lord has much service for you 
yet to perform, and that your latter end may be 
more blessed than your beginning. 

But this much we know, that as we have 
stepped forward into old age, we can never re- 
trograde, so as to become young again. It 
would be highly improper to repine at this cir- 
cumstance. To act our part well on the stage 
of life, and approve ourselves to God, must be 
our highest aim. The Lord make us faithful 
unto death, and we are assured he will give us 
a crown of life. 

The ill turns that we have so often expe- 
rienced, should remind us, that we are mortal, 
and that our earthly house must shortly be dis- 
solved. But may we not say, with some degree 
of comfort, we have a house not made with 
hands, eternal in the heavens. The Lord pre- 
pare us to meet there, to part no more. 

This will be handed you by our valued friend, 
Mr. Boardman. You will be pleased with him, 
I am sure. He appears to possess a large share 
of the missionary spirit^ and I think will do 



96 

honor to the cause of missions. 1 have no 
doubt but you will show him every facility in 
your power, to aid in the good work in which 
he is engaged. You will find him respectable 
both as a scholar and as a preacher. 
I remain with unabated affection, 

Your old friend and brother in Christ. 

T. B. 
Rev. Dr. Gano. 



June 25, 1805. 

My dear sympathising Brother, 

Last evening I received your very affection- 
ate letter, and although I did not in the least 
doubt of your sympathetic condolence, yet the 
tender manner in which you were led to com- 
municate your feelings, was peculiarly consol- 
ing. In afflictions, as in all other things, we 
learn but by experience. In approaching the 
furnace which you mention, we often have our 
fears alarmed, but in it, we as often find one 
with us, whose form is like the Son of God. 

The scene through which I have been called 
to pass of late, has been uncommonly trying. 
In a letter which I conclude you had not receiv- 
ed when you wrote last, as you did not mention 
it, I believe I gave you some account of the ill- 



97 

ness of my son. But I have been so confused 
that I can scarcely tell what I wrote. 

On Wednesday, the 5th of June, was the 
first of our knowing him to be unwell. At 
evening we sent for a physician. His complaint 
was supposed to be a rupture of the bowels. On 
Thursday further attempts were made by putting 
him into a hot bath, and applying: ice to the part 
affected at the same time, but all in vain. These 
and other attempts were repeated, without suc- 
cess, until Friday night, when it was concluded 
that nothing more could be done but an opera- 
tion of the knife. He consented. On Satur- 
day, eight physicians assembled, and at eleven 
o'clock, commenced their dreadful operation, 
which was not completed until half past three. 
For nearly two hours, I expected momently to 
be informed that he had died in the operation ; 
or, that they had given him up to die, without 
any prospect of helping him. But with much 
difficulty they succeeded at last. 

After the wound was dressed, he appeared as 
comfortable as could be expected. He contin- 
ued so until Thursday night. On Friday morn- 
ing I perceived symptoms of the fatal disorder 
which terminated his life. My hopes all seem- 
ed to wither awa3^- The spasms of the jaw ap- 
peared some time before they became universal. 
9 



98 

But they continued to increase until nature could 
no longer resist, and on Saturday, at half past 
six o'clock, P. M. he expired. 

But there is another inquiry, I know my good 
brother is anxious to make. *' How was the 
state of his mind ?" I had not the least gleam 
of hope for him until about an hour and a half 
before he died. But glory to God, 1 have rea- 
son to hope, that like the repenting thief, he was 
brought to be a true penitent, and to embrace 
the mercy of God, as proclaimed in the gospel. 
He appeared calm and resigned ; he begged me 
not to mourn, for he said he could trust his soul 
in the hands of that God, who is able to do all 
things for him. A tender mother and sisters 
agonizing in another chamber ! Good God ! 
what a scene ! I stood by him until he expired, 
and tried to compose my weeping family. Mrs. 
B. still remains unwell, but I hope she is mend- 
ing. On Monday, the dear remains were com- 
mitted to the tomb. My friends have given me 
abundant proof of their love on this trying occa- 
sion. Thus you see I have mercies mingled 
with my afflictions. During this uncommonly 
trying scene, if I have not been deceived, 
though I have felt all the father^ yet I hope I 
have felt something of the Christian temper. 
Do pray for me, and for my dear family, that it 



99 

may be sanctified to them. O, how it would 
sweeten this bitter cup, if it might produce the 
same happy effects in my family, as a similar 
event did in yours. But all will be of no avail, 
without divine influence. 

I tried to preach last Lord's day afternoon, 
from 2 Samuel, xii. 23 : " But now he is dead, 
wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back 
again ? I shall go to him, but he shall not return 
to me." Our Meeting-house was thronged like 
our evening lectures, in time of the revival ; 
and hundreds went away for want of room. I 
had, indeed, a very solemn, weeping audience, 
but I fear the impressions were rather from the 
occasion, and from the tone of my feelings, than 
from any thing special in the discourse. 

But the bottom of my paper admonishes me 
to close. With fervent wishes that you and your 
dear family may be safe from death for many 
years to come, as those where the Paschal blood 
was sprinkled, 

I subscribe your brother in tribulation. 

T.B. 
Dr. Gano. 



100 

HYMNS COMPOSED BY DR. BALDWIN. 

The Union. 
FROM whence doth this union arise, 
That hatred is conquer'd by love ; 
That fastens our souls in such ties, 
As nature and time can't remove. 

It cannot in Eden be foond, 
Nor yet in a Paradise lost ; 
It grows on Immanuel's ground, 
And Jesus' rich blood it did cost. 

My friends who so dear are to me, 
Our hearts all united in love ; 
Where Jesus is gone we shall be. 
In yonder blest mansions above. 

O, why then so loath for to part. 
Since we shall ere long meet again t 
Engrav'd on Immanuel's heart. 
At distance we cannot remain. 

Though call'd to resign 6p this breath, 
And quit these frail bodies of clay ; 
When freed from corruption and death, 
We'll unite in the regions of day. 

With Jesus we ever shall reign, 
And all his bright glories shall see ; 
We'll sing Alleluia, Amen. 
Amen, even so let it be. 



101 

The Year of the Redeemed, 

COME, welcome this new year of grace, 
Proclaim'd through Jesus' blood ; 

The happy year of our release, 
To seal our peace with God. 

We early wander'd from our God, 

In the dark maze of sin ; 
The year of the redeemed is come, 

To bring us back again. 

We once could spurn at ofFer'd grace, 
And slight a Saviour's charms^ 

The year of the redeera'd is come, 
To call us to his arms. 

We hear the gospel's joyful sound, 

Proclaim the jubilee ; 
The year of the redeem'd is come, 

To set the ransom'd free. 

Ye aged saints, who long have sighed, 

To see this happy day ; 
The year of the redeem'd is come, 

To wipe your tears away. 

Ye lovely youth, who late have known 
The sweets of pard'ning grace. 

The year of the redeem'd demands 
Your noblest acts of praise. 
9* 



102 
Life Eternal to Tcnov) the only true God, 

'TIS first of all thyself to know, 

To feel the plague of sin, 
Expos'd to everlasting wo, 

And nothing good within. 

To know thy wretched, sinful state, 

Averse to all that's good ; 
To feel thy guilt exceeding great, 

Thy heart oppos'd to God. 

To know thy law-condemned case. 
And own thy sentence just; 

Thy heart subdu'd by sovereign grace. 
And humbled in the dust. 

To know the pangs of pious grief, 

For sins against the Lord ; 
To know that nought can give relief 

But trusting in his word. 

To know that thou art horn of God, 
Thy num'rous sins forgiv'n, 

Thy soul redeem'd by Jesus' blood, 
And thou an heir of heav'n. 

Yet, after all, can it be so, 

That I may be deceiv'd? 
This cannot be — for sure ** I know, 

" In whom I have believ'd." 



103 

Dear Saviour, cause thy love to flow ; 

Thy love my soul revives : 
In darkest hours give me to hnow^ 
That my Redeemer lives. 

Then will I wait thy high command, 
To yield my flesh to dust ; 

And to my Saviour's faithful hand, 
My naked soul will trust. 



Come^ see the 'place where the Lord lay, 

COME happy souls, adore the Lamb, 
Who lov'd our race ere time began ; 
Who veil'd his Godhead in our clay. 
And in an humble manger lay. 

To Jordan's streams the Spirit led, 
To mark the path his saints should tread ; 
Joyful they trace the sacred way. 
To see the place where Jesus lay, 

Immers'd by John in Jordan's wave, 
The Saviour left his wat'ry grave : 
Heaven own'd the deed, approv'd the way. 
And bless'd the place where Jesus lay. 

Come, all who love his precious name ; 
Come, tread his steps and learn of him ; 
Happy beyond expression they 
Who find the place where Jesus lay, 



104 

At the water side. 

Almighty Saviour, here we stand, 

Rang'd by the water side ; 
Hither we come, at thy command, 

To wait upon thy bride. 

Thy footsteps mark'd this humble way, 

For all that love thy cause; 
Lord, thy example we obey. 

And glory in the cross. 

Our dearest Lord, we'll follow thee. 

Where'er thou lead'st the way ; 
Thro' floods, thro' flames, thro' death's dark vale, 

To realms of endless day. 



THE PARTING SCENE. 

Lines written on the sailing of Messrs, Wheelock and 
Colman, for India, from Boston, JVov, 16, 3817. 

SEE that ship, her sails now bending, 

Destin'd far to Indian seas ; 
See her canvass, wide extending, 

Catch the ling'ring wish'd for breeze ; 
Richly freighted 

With ambassadors of peace. 



105 

See the solemn crowd assembling, 
Anxious each the scene to view ; 

Some are weeping, oihers trembling, 
While a mother* presses through, 

And with anguish 
Bids her only son adieu. 

See a father's t heart dissolving, 

While he gazes on his son ; 
Ev'ry tender thought revolving, 

Turns away and weeps alone : 
' Softly saying, 

" Father, let thy will be done/' 

See a scene no less distressing, 

When a mother's J anguish'd heart, 

Fondly to her bosom pressing, 

Cries, ''my son ! and must we part! 

O, my Saviour ! 
Ever keep him near thy heart." 

See that youth || with arms entwining, 
Hanging on her brother's breast, 

Tears, and grief, and love combining. 
Still she cries, though much distress'd, 

" Go, my brother ! 
Go ! and make the Burmans blest." 

*Mrs. Colman. fMr. Wheelock. §Mrs. Wheelock. 
11 Miss Wheelock. 



106 

Sisters* too, with fond embraces, 
Stand o'erwhelm'd upon the shore ; 

Gazing on each other's faces, 
Weeping, part to meet no more ! 

Griev'd and pensive, 
God's mysterious ways adore. 

While the crowd were silent standing, 
Solemn prayer devoutly flovvM ; 

Clouds of incense like, ascending 
Up before the throne of God, 

For our brethren, 
While they 're sailing o'er the flood. 

Go, ye heralds of salvation. 

Go proclaim ** redeeming blood ;" 

Publish to that barb'rous nation. 
Peace and pardon from our God : 

Tell the heathen 
None but Christ can do them good. 

While the gospel trump you 're sounding. 
May the Spirit seal the word ; 

And through sov'reign grace abounding, 
Burmans bow and own the Lord ; 

Guadmaf leaving, 
God alone shall be ador'd. 

* Sisters of the Missionaries' wives. 
t The name of the Burman idol. 



107 

Distant, though our souls are blending, 
Still our hearts are warm and true ; 

In our prayers to heaven ascending, 
Brethren, we'll remember you : 

Heaven preserve you, 
Safely all your journey through. 

When your mission here is finish'd, 
And your work on earth is done ; 

May your souls, by grace replenish'd. 
Find acceptance through the Son, 

Thence admitted, 
Dwell forever near his throne. 

Loud hosannas now resounding. 
Make the heav'nly arches ring ; 

Grace to sinful men abounding, 
Ransom'd millions sweetly sing, 

While with rapture, 
All adore their heav'nly King. 



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